


Snakes Keep Their Secrets

by SomebodySnicket



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Adventure, Angst, Blood Magic, Dark Harry, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Magic, Elemental Magic, Family, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Good Parent Narcissa Black Malfoy, Harry Potter is Good at Potions, He’s just human and that happens to hurt Harry for a while, Horcruxes, Hurt/Comfort, Lucius Malfoy & Severus Snape Friendship, Magical Artifacts, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Mentor Severus Snape, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, Obscurial Harry Potter, POV Multiple, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Parseltongue, Potions (Harry Potter), Protective Severus Snape, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Slytherin Harry Potter, Snakes, Supportive Narcissa Black Malfoy, but not completely, but not evil, but only sort of, it just involves dark magic in parts, lestranges - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 64,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomebodySnicket/pseuds/SomebodySnicket
Summary: Abused by the Dursley’s and ignored by everyone else, Parseltongue becomes Harriet Potter’s escape and brings out her Slytherin side. After a chance encounter with Draco aged 8 brings her abilities to light, the Malfoys, and eventually Severus, take an interest and induct Harry into the magical world (not that they know she’s really Harry Potter!).
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy & Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy & Harry Potter
Comments: 68
Kudos: 350





	1. Draco Malfoy Meets Harry Owens

**Author's Note:**

> For people who want a slightly longer description before deciding if they want to read. This is a story where Harry acts far more Slytherin than in the books and will have a lot of non-canon universe features about how Parseltongue and magic more generally works. If you have read any of murkybluematter’s fanfiction ‘The Rigel Black Chronicles’ then you will probably notice that I have borrowed quite a lot of Harry’s characterisation (including a hiding of gender at least temporarily) as well as some things about pure blood culture. This is NOT a story where Harry is Dark or where Voldemort is really good/Dumbledore is really evil. Lucius is also not Light, he was/is a Death Eater but his primary motivation (as I think it is in canon) is towards his family. This will hopefully also explain why I haven’t gone down the route of making Lucius abusive to Draco. The same goes for Narcissa, though I don’t think she was ever particularly loyal to Voldemort’s cause. Severus will also play a big role in this, with lots of Severitus elements. As for plot, I’m not majorly focused on action on this so although things will happen I’m not necessarily going to introduce some big bad enemy (or the return of Voldemort) particularly quickly - there will be far more about the nature of magic, politics and of Harry finding her place in it all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story is told through multiple different perspectives, one per chapter with Draco taking the first shot. For those who are confused by the disparity between the story summary and what you read in the first chapter, reading the second chapter should clear that up for you.

Chapter 1 - Draco Malfoy meets Harry Owens

_-DMDMDM-_

Draco Malfoy was bored. He’d already played on his broom, decided his other toys were too babyish to touch, had his mother dismiss the tutor after accusing him of expressing an unusual interest in a particular section of the Malfoy Library, and now his father had abandoned him to the care of a house elf after promising him he wouldn’t get distracted on their ‘educational journey through the countryside’. As he had been more and more over the past few years, Draco wondered if his life might be more interesting with a friend. Not that he didn’t have friends, of course. He was heir Malfoy and was very important and well mannered and had all the best things so the play dates (though Draco would never call them something so juvenile) that he had with the other important and well mannered pureblood scions were always a success. But while he supposed Theo was okay (at least better than Crabbe and Goyle who couldn’t do so much as hold a conversation), the boys much closer friendship with Blaise always left Draco feeling a little redundant - and as the Malfoy name superseded any of theirs he was hardly going to look kindly on that slight. Hogwarts, and the chance to spend every waking moment with others of his age, felt a very long way away. Maybe his father would buy him a pet to make up for it.

Satisfied for the moment, he turned his attention back to the task at hand - evading Motty. She was, at Draco’s instruction, 50 paces back, clutching the bag of ingredients he had been identifying and collecting as part of a project for uncle Severus, but was staring intently at him as if he might disappear any second. This was likely because he had done exactly that on their last 3 outings together, but being followed by a creature with explicit instructions not to let him have any fun (or ‘any brash, Gryffindorish impulses likely to imperil his life’ as were the actual orders) who would no doubt report everything he did back to his parents the second he arrived home was neither pleasant nor the sort of thing he would allow for very long. With any luck Motty would be so afraid of receiving punishment for losing him that she would not even mention his temporary absence from her eye-line. Turning as if to examine a tree for moss, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out the little twist of paper that contained within it a preserved puffer fish spine that, when crushed, would cause a minor explosion that could easily distract Motty for long enough that he could hide himself in the woodland. Grabbing a fallen piece of bark he pressed the spine into a groove and jogged over to the elf who had started approaching him with the bag outstretched. As he lowered the bark he applied just enough pressure to start the reaction and then pulled a passable expression of surprise as the bag jolted violently and he exclaimed “The bark must have reacted with one of those berries I found earlier”. The elf looked down in dismay at the ruined ingredients and by the time she had formulated a response Draco was well hidden behind a heavy patch of brambles.

Chortling at the increasingly distant sound of Motty’s curses, Draco contemplated that it was really his father’s fault for the ruined ingredients. Had he stayed as promised he could have warned Draco of any potentially volatile reactions, and now he had proved himself incapable his father would have to supervise another trip in time for Draco’s lesson with his Godfather on Thursday. A smug smile settled on Draco’s face as he thought of the genius of his trick and he was so lost in his schemes that he didn’t even notice the adder until heard a loud hiss and looked down to see his foot dangerously close to the now rearing creature. Shrieking in panic he scrambled back, all his focus on the beast who looked ready to descend on him until another hiss caught both of their attention. A scrawny boy who looked to be a few inches shorter than Draco was standing nearby, hissing at the snake who remained frozen for a moment before looking back to Draco, flicking it’s tongue and then slithering away into the underbrush.

Draco remained in an undignified heap on the floor and watched as the boys eyes widened in horror and he turned to leave. Jumping up he grabbed an overlong shirtsleeve and clung on, urgency filling his voice.

“You can speak to snakes.” The boy stiffened, then relaxed and turned to face Draco who noted the intent look in his almost eerily bright green eyes even as he responded with so much nonchalance that Draco almost found himself doubting what he had just witnessed.

“People can’t speak to snakes. I scared it off was all, you should really be more careful if you’re gonna wander through the woods, you probably scared him.”

“You’re worried for the snake?!” Draco quipped, a blush rising and humiliation colouring his tone at the boys insult. Of course he was careful, the snake was just hard to see.

“Suppose not, just that that was an adder and they only attack when threatened. Good you’re not bitten, I should probably go now.” The boy made to pull his sleeve from Draco’s grasp but Draco clung tight.

“No, not yet. What I mean, what I meant to say is you did talk to that snake. I saw you. You’re a Parselmouth!” Awe filled Draco at those final words, remembering stories of the Slytherin founder and his descendants, of the reverent tones of the adults at the dinner parties where the Dark Lord was discussed in vague terms and hushed voices. He didn’t know how many Parselmouths there were but a gift like that was definitely rare and he was not about to let this boy disappear so soon after finding him. Shock flickered through those green eyes for a second before an effected confusion clouded them. The boy tilted his head a little to the side.

“A what?” He asked, careful and quiet with a perfect upward inflection to indicate his question.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You don’t have to, I know all about it. I’m a wizard too so you don’t need to convince me of anything”.

This time the boy’s repeated question seemed far more genuine. Either he was a brilliant actor, though why he would chose to act now was a mystery to Draco, or... no. No muggleborn could have inherited Slytherin’s most hallowed gift. But if he was a pureblood people would probably know about him by now, Draco likely would have met him. He could, Draco supposed, be a half-blood or born from squibs or something and just hadn’t been told. It felt far fetched but everything about this felt far fetched.

“You know, a wizard. Haven’t your parents told you?”

“No I don’t know, and wizards don’t exist. I really do have to go though-“

“No you don’t. Not if you really don’t know. Don’t you want to know about magic?”

“I-“ The boy started, then stopped himself by biting down on his lip with what looked like rather unnecessary force. He started to shake his head but his eyes lingered on Draco’s own, staring as if he could divine some inner knowledge or truth from them. They stayed like that, both suspended in realisation of the other, then his carefully bred manners took over and he stepped back, dropping the sleeve in order to extend an arm in offer of a handshake.

“I was abrupt before, I’m Draco Malfoy.” The boy waited long enough to answer Draco began to feel anger at being shunned, but then a thin hand reached out and grasped it.

“And I’m Harry Owens.”

Where the conversation would have gone from there Draco did not get the chance to find out, for the moment their hands parted the tiny figure of his elf came through the trees crying “Master Draco! Master Draco! You do not leave my side, you do not run! Is masters orders and you is bad to disobey, we is going home right-“

The elf stopped, stunned for a moment as she noted the presence of another person in the clearing, a person in muggle clothing with an expression of surprise so obvious it was almost comical.

“It’s okay Motty,” Draco interjected in an effort to avoid the house elf’s panic, “he’s a wizard, just doesn’t know much. This is my house elf, I suppose muggles don’t have them” he finished, turning to Harry who looked to still be processing the bizarre series of events.

“Oh,” sighed the elf in relief, “That is okay then, but Motty is taking Master Draco home right now unless you is wanting me to be telling Master and Mistress Malfoy about what you is been doing!”

“I’ll come, Motty, just give me a moment. You should come too, Harry. I can introduce you to my father.”

Though still dazed, Harry turned his attention from the elf back to Draco. “No, Draco, thanks but I really will be missed. But...” He trailed off, seemingly unsure of how to continue.

“We need to talk though.” Malfoy finished, correctly guessing what Harry implied. “Can you be back here tomorrow, Four O’Clock?”

“I- yea, I suppose I can. Um, thanks for-“

“Yea, thanks” Draco interjected, not wanting Harry to reveal to Motty anything about the snake attack lest she forget her promise and tell on him to his parents. “I’ll go now but make sure you’re back here or I’ll be very cross when we meet again at school.”

“School?”

“Hogwarts, when we’re 11. Bye Harry. Oh and wear something nicer tomorrow, wizards do not care to look like homeless muggles.” And with one final look at the smaller boy Draco turned to his elf and they apparated home, Draco already planning exactly how he was going to tell the story to his father.

Landing in the grounds, Draco quickly pulled himself from the elf’s grasp and ran to the front room where his mother always spent the afternoons that weren’t occupied by some social function or something equally tedious.

“Hello darling,” She called “You look rather flushed. Did you get any good samples?”

“Yes, I mean no they exploded. Is father coming for dinner tonight?” His mother looked mildly shocked at news of the explosion and Draco’s frantic delivery of it all, but she wisely chose not to distract from her son’s urgent seeming question.

“He mentioned he might, Dragon, though I don’t know-“

“Could you ask him?”

“Don’t be rude, Draco, interruptions are impertinent.”

“Sorry, but could you ask him, please? I wish to dine with both of you tonight” Draco adopted the posher affectation he largely reserved for formal company for the final line as his mother always seemed to find humour in it and thus give into to his commands more easily.

“I can ask, Draco, was it something urgent?”

“Not urgent, but I really want to tell you both.” During the conversation Draco had considered just telling his mother now just to get it off his chest, but he rarely had something interesting enough to say to catch his father’s undivided attention for long and he was not about to waste this opportunity.

“Okay then,” His mother relented “But go and change into your evening wear, you are quite caked in mud and look to unkempt for a stable let alone our dining hall.”

Draco looked down at himself, embarrassed, then nodded and fled to his room. As he washed and changed he thought through how he would deliver his information, and what elements of his own doings he would leave out of the final narrative. By the time 7:00 came he felt quite prepared and walked into the dining hall eyes alight with anticipation.

His mother was already sat, and though it took a minute his father did come through, much to Draco’s relief. The food arrived as soon as they were all sat and Draco smiled at the Roast Chicken he was always partial to. Not wanting to appear uncouth by demonstrating the same eagerness he had for his mother, Draco patiently took a mouthful and waited for his father to begin the conversation.

Draco didn’t notice the looks of amusement his parents shared over Draco’s head at their son’s rather futile attempt at subtlety, but even if he had been more successful he gave himself away the second his father started talking and Draco hastily set his fork onto his plate.

“I trust you had a pleasant excursion even given my absence, son.”

“I did sir.”

“Your mother tells me it was regretfully unproductive, something about an explosion?”

“Oh, yes. That. Just volatile ingredients.” Draco was not happy to be sidetracked and offered no further information on the matter.

“I gather that is not why you demanded us both be present for this meal.”

“No father, it happened after.”

“Is this to do with the boy you met? Motty told me you had met one.” His mother questioned, and Draco glowered at her for learning some part of the story before he had the chance to tell it.

“A boy?” His father’s tone was sharp. “Wizard or muggle, I have no desire to deal with those fools at the ministry if he saw Motty and runs home to tell of it.”

“Wizard, definitely. He did magic, he just didn’t know that’s what it was I don’t think.”

“A muggleborn?” Lucius looked down at his son darkly “you know not to associate with them Draco. What did you tell him of our world, and why would you feel the need to tell us of it so urgently?”

“I, um.” This was not going well at all, Draco bemoaned to himself. “I told him a bit. Not much though - really!” He cried at his fathers raised eyebrow. “And, well, I don’t think he was a mud- a muggleborn though. I don’t think he could have been.”

“If the child didn’t know of magic Dragon, at this age to tell them of us is much the same as to tell a muggle. They’re just not able to understand and it can cause us all sorts of problems if they learn some things without access to the whole.” His mother’s words were soothing, but Draco still felt as if they were missing the point and that he was somehow in trouble even without mentioning the running away and the not noticing a snake.

“You say he couldn’t have been. Why” His father cut in, and Draco felt a spark of hope.

“Well, father, didn’t you say that there are some types of magic, gifts and things, that have to be inherited through magical lines?”

Mild interest tempering some of the previous disapproval Lucius inclined his head. “That is indeed the case, though some would disagree so it would be unwise to rest an argument on it if you are doing so to those less informed then are present.”

“Yes, I won’t sir.”

“What is this gift then? A Metamorphmagus? I know that runs in the Black line but if you are excited over the potential of some long lost cousin I would not get your hopes up. Even if he were it would undoubtably be a renounced branch.”

“No, it wasn’t that. It was, well, he was talking to a snake.”

The room seemed to have frozen, and Draco felt he could have severed the tension with a wand tip. His parent’s gaze met and this time Draco didn’t miss the intrigue and doubt they communicated. Eventually his mother spoke.

“That would certainly be an interesting talent to find. You will have never heard it before though, Draco, so can you be certain?”

“Yes! I mean, yes mother. There was a snake near me and he came and hissed at it and listened then it went away. He said I’d scared it.”

“He told you he had spoken to it?” His fathers voice held a command that Draco immediately feared and couldn’t wait to practice until he could emulate it perfectly.

“Well, no. He denied it and just said I’d probably scared it. But you would deny it, wouldn’t you? If you really had it I mean. And it wasn’t, it didn’t sound like just any old hiss. It felt real.”

Draco’s father was studying him acutely, so it was his mother who spoke next. “And this boy, did he have a name?”

“Harry, Harry Owens I think.”

“And did he tell you anything else? How you might contact him perhaps, if he didn’t know of magic he would no doubt be very interested in you.”

“I don’t know where he lives or anything, but we’re meeting in the same place tomorrow. If you’ll let me, that is.”

His father rose, dinner quite forgotten. “I think, Draco, that I might join you for that meeting. No doubt the child will have many questions and I am likely in a better position to answer. In the meantime I think I will prepare my pensieve. Kindly join me in my study after after you have eaten, Draco.”

Draco nodded, thinking of the jumpy boy insisting magic wasn’t real and feeling uncertain about how well received his father’s presence tomorrow would be. Neither he nor his mother spoke for the remainder of the meal, and Draco quickly hurried for the study the moment dessert was finished.

His father was waiting at his desk when Draco entered, a white marble chalice with strange inscriptions Draco supposed were runes standing in the centre of the fine dark wood room.

“Have you previously heard of a pensieve, Draco?”

“No sir.”

“No matter, you would have had no cause until now. It is a device with which one can examine memories. Once withdrawn and placed in the bowl it and the surrounding can be viewed, no doubt you can guess why I would wish to observe this particular memory?”

“You don’t trust me, sir” Draco said with a hint of bitterness. Lucius grimaced.

“I trust you told me all you were able. You have not, however, heard Parselmouth before. I have and so only I will be able to best divine whether that was indeed what you saw. I find it unlikely it was otherwise but to meet this boy only to discover he is a muggle would be rather unsatisfactory for all involved.”

Draco nodded, and willingly let his father guide him through focussing his mind before pointing his wand at Draco’s temple and pulling a long silvery strand out before depositing it gently in the liquid of the bowl. His father then submerged himself and Draco waited anxiously, idly scanning the bookcase in an effort to distract himself from what he hoped was his father witnessing Parseltongue. When Lucius eventually emerged he gave a short, curt nod and dismissed Draco from the room with the instruction to return the next day so they could journey out together.

Draco went to bed that night full of a nervous anticipation he had previously only experienced before birthdays and Yule. His parents were interested in Harry, so his father would probably invite him back with them tomorrow. At the very least he would make sure to find out where the boy lived. He had not interacted with him long enough to know much about Harry’s character, and besides he looked younger than Draco by at least a year, but he was new and exciting and Draco had found him and was not about to let him go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For people who want a slightly longer description before deciding if they want to read. This is a story where Harry acts far more Slytherin than in the books and will have a lot of non-canon universe features about how Parseltongue and magic more generally works. If you have read any of murkybluematter's fanfiction 'The Rigel Black Chronicles' then you will probably notice that I have borrowed quite a lot of Harry's characterisation (including a hiding of gender at least temporarily) as well as some things about pure blood culture. This is NOT a story where Harry is evil or where Voldemort is really good/Dumbledore is really evil. Lucius is also not Light, he was/is a Death Eater but his primary motivation (as I think it is in canon) is towards his family. This will hopefully also explain why I haven't gone down the route of making Lucius abusive to Draco. The same goes for Narcissa, though I don't think she was ever particularly loyal to Voldemort's cause. Severus will also play a big role in this, with lots of Severitus elements. As for plot, I'm not majorly focused on action on this so although things will happen I'm not necessarily going to introduce some big bad enemy (or the return of Voldemort) particularly quickly - there will be far more about the nature of magic, politics and of Harry finding her place in it all. Told through multiple perspectives, primarily Harry but also Draco, Lucius and Severus.


	2. Harriet Potter meets Draco Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry’s POV meeting Draco for the first time. Harry discovers magic, has a conversation with a snake and deals with the Dursley’s.

**Chapter 2 - Harriet Potter meets Draco Malfoy**

_-HPHPHP-_

“Halt, this is not in your interests. He is no threat unless further threatened, to retreat will serve you best.”

The response was automatic, but that didn’t stop Harry from cursing her mistake the second those hisses came out of her mouth. Barely sparing a glance at the blond idiot on the floor she turned to leave before the situation got any worse, only waiting to see that the snake did indeed suspendher potential attack. As she turned she heard a mutter in the low tones meant for unobserved conversation.

“You speak, and speak well. There is more to be discussed.”

Wincing internally at the conversation she would need to have as soon as that boy went back to wherever he came from, she gave a stifled “indeed” and went to move before a sharp tug on her sleeve stopped her. Not ideal, but maybe he just wanted to thank her for distracting it and wouldn’t ask her about the manner...

“You can speak to snakes.” Damn. This was bad. People were meant to dismiss the weird answers in favour of the sane and perfectly normal ones that fit with their worldview, but children were always less reliable in that respect than adults. Turning and scanning the boy critically she noted with relief that the stark blond hair and pointed face was not one she had seen before - a tourist or visiting guest was far less likely to contribute to the gossip mill that could have Petunia screaming at her for ‘acting freakish’ and relegating her to her cupboard or, worse, her uncle, before the day was out. Now all she had to do was deny and deflect and he would forget the whole thing.

“People can’t speak to snakes. I scared it off was all, you should really be more careful if you’re gonna wander through the woods, you probably scared him” she replied calmly, willing confidence into her words even as she wondered at why he had seemed so sure in declaring something that, for all he knew, was impossible.

“You’re worried for the snake?!” He snapped. Perfect. Righteous anger was always good for redirecting a conversation. And maybe next time he would be more careful, the snake might have been somewhat camouflaged against the bracken but no one should go through the world with that much obliviousness - it was practically asking for attack. Now all she had to do was reassure, let him be satisfied by gaining the supposed high-ground in the conversation, provide some new information to cover up the answers she wasn’t giving him and then make her escape.

“Suppose not, just that that was an adder and they only attack when threatened. Good you’re not bitten, I should probably go now.” She pulled away, but the boy refused to let go. He seemed to be insistent on making her life harder for every moment he was in it.

“No, not yet. What I mean, what I meant to say is you did talk to that snake. I saw you. You’re a Parselmouth!” The careful mask on her true emotions slipped and all she could feel was shock, terror and a treacherous hint of excitement. He knew. Parselmouth was not a word snakes used, but from the stories of Speakers in generations past she knew that the term applied to her. She thought with a shudder of Milton and used the grief to pull her other feelings back under control. Looking at the boy’s own expression, the lack of fear or accusal in them astounded her - he almost seemed... happy about the realisation. He couldn’t have the ability himself or he would have done something more than a pathetic shriek upon seeing one poised to attack, but he knew the term and did not seem to doubt for a second that such an ability was real. He could have other talents, the ones the snakes spoke of in their stories about humans who could do more than what all the people she had ever met would call possible. She had only idly hoped before this point that they still existed, but maybe... maybe that means she could confirm... No. Her safety, her survival at the Dursley’s depended on remaining hidden, letting everyone thinking her normal. Her secrets must stay secret.

“A what?” She asked, letting confusion flood across her features and tilting her head a little for extra effect. She wanted him to let it go, and yet her heart pounded and breath halted in anticipation of him revealing how he could possess the knowledge she had kept perfectly hidden from anyone else before this point.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You don’t have to, I know all about it. I’m a wizard too so you don’t need to convince me of anything.” She had not been expecting that. Her stomach lurched at his casual use of a word that she dared not think about, a word that meant pain if spoken allowed and that could not exist even if it often seemed to be the only thing that could explain why weird things happened around her, why she seemed to cause them, why the snakes described people who could not logically be anything else. Wizard. Witches. Magic. He seemed so sure of himself, so sure that she would know as well.

“A what?” She asked on instinct, desperate to confirm that she had not misheard while simultaneously trying to detect any deception on his features that would indicate this was all some big trick designed to get her into more trouble than she could readily recover from.

“You know, a wizard. Haven’t your parents told you?” Parents. Ha. His question was so perfectly innocent though, she found she couldn’t believe this was a joke. Still, accepting the implications of that was too much to contemplate so she ploughed ahead regardless.

“No I don’t know, and wizards don’t exist. I really do have to go though-“ She needed to get away, couldn’t let herself be tempted with forbidden knowledge.

“No you don’t. Not if you really don’t know. Don’t you want to know about magic?” And in that moment he had her.

“I-“ she began, but could go no further. She was a failure. All that practice, she had thought herself able to manipulate any conversation. Overconfidence kills, she knew that and yet plunged into this completely unprepared for the boy’s responses. She had shown weakness by revealing her own lack of knowledge, and had revealed her own secret before he had so much as opened his mouth by barging into a problem that was not hers to deal with. Not that she would have stood by and do nothing. Even if it caused problems, the boy was woefully inept. She should have just run as soon as she did it. He had won though, and Harry was not, could not, let this possibility go. Magic. If this was real, if this boy really meant what he said and she was not completely delusional, then this was the single most important moment in her life.

She hardly noticed here sleeve being dropped, and it took a moment to decipher the next words the boy spoke. “I was abrupt before, I’m Draco Malfoy.” Strange name, yet she found herself believing him. She needed to introduce herself too, she realised as she gazed dazedly at his extended hand. She couldn’t be truthful, of course, to accept this hand was to openly declare her rejection of every principle her loving relatives had ever beat into her, but a surname change was probably enough. He had quite possibly given her the most important information anyone ever would and - though it was foolish of him to offer it so freely with so little prompting - she found herself longing to repay a little of that trust with some of the truth. Just her nickname of course, Harriet was... oh. Of course. He had said she was a wizard. He had obviously seen her short hair and boys clothes and made the same assumption most everyone else did. It struck her as ironic that her biggest secret was exposed with next to no effort on his part and yet the trivial matter of her gender could remain hidden. Still, she would not be a Speaker if she did not know that letting people continue with their assumptions was instrumental to gaining the upper hand, so she felt no reason to remedy the situation. She preferred being treated like a boy anyway.

“And I’m Harry Owens.” Draco smiled and Harry felt her own lips lift a little, genuine for the first time in she hardly remembered how long. Then a tiny weird creature with huge floppy ears dressed in rags came shrieking towards them and the surrealism of all of this hit her in a wave. Draco seemed to know what it was and Harry found herself only half listening to the conversation. She had found herself being largely convinced by words alone, but this was proof that wherever this boy came from was a very different world from the one she lived in. One with magic. Magic is real. Draco’s invitation cut through her musings, and his easy acceptance of her felt like a knife twisting in her stomach. She didn’t know what to do with this, she had never thought to prepare.

“No, Draco, thanks but I really will be missed. But...” It was the only answer she could give. The Dursleys would want her cooking tonight, and if she missed it then - well the consequences didn’t bear thinking about, especially if Draco or his parents came to meet the Dursleys somehow and reveal what she was really doing, not that she would ever let that happen. When Draco answered her unasked question with the offer to meet again she felt the knife plunge further but instead of pain an intense warmth spread inside her, rendering her, for once, unable to formulate a coherent response. Draco’s threat only intensified this feeling, as did the mention of a school - a school! - where people like them went. That means there must be more of them. Lots more.

Draco’s comment about the clothes hurt a little. It wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter. But then again it also wasn’t like she disagreed. Whatever a muggle was, her cousin’s castoffs would probably accurately fit the description. Sparing a glance at Draco’s own clothing, she noted that the neatly pressed pale trousers and excessively detailed shirt, even decked in mud from his fall, were far more finely made than anything she had seen before and in a very different style to what local children wore too. There was no way she could replicate that, the most she could hope is that she could sneak some of her clothes into the wash and wear something clean for their next meeting.

Draco and the creature - she thought he said an elf - disappeared with a crack, and Harry found herself hardly even surprised. Of course teleportation was possible, if the rest of all this was. Sinking to the ground she set to work trying to process everything that had just happened, identifying all the information she might have to rely on later. She hardly noticed the sky darken around her as she thought, and likely would have continued had a hiss not drawn her back to reality.

“I have been more than patient, Speaker. You walk on two legs and yet use our tongue. I had thought your kind rumour.” The unstated question, a demand for an explanation, was not explicit but Harry knew what was expected and sighed her reply, careful not to apologise and thus concede the opening ground of the conversation.

“To wait was a choice of yours and so does not weigh on me. The confirmation that I Speak is hardly needed, though I think you will agree these rumours are not something that need to be made into anything more.” There, hopefully she would let the matter rest and agree not to work to make her existence known to every snake for miles around. Being followed by hisses everywhere she went was hardly going to help keep her freakishness from being noticed by her relatives.

“You think I will agree? That is presumption bordering on impertinence, this knowledge is hardly the type to be forgotten.” Harry closed his eyes for a second. Of course she would have to be one of the stringent ones, after all when did anything ever happen to make her life easier?

“Forgotten, no. My presumption would not be to say you should let the matter lie, merely that to allow the message to carry freely would make the value of your knowledge lesser than it is at present. I will, of course, reciprocate any greetings you might extend should we meet again.” Harry was eternally appreciative of the fact that snakes valued holding information others didn’t far more satisfying than sharing it without substantial award. Learning that had done wonders to her ability to slip beneath the radar and not draw attention to herself by attempting to remedy any situation she observed.

“An amenable agreement,” the snake replied slowly, “should you find yourself here again I will accommodate.” The snake flicked it’s tongue in conclusion and Harry returned her equivalent, a short and almost imperceptible nod of the head. With their business done she stood and with a pang of dread realised just how late the days events would make her for arriving at the Dursleys in time to complete her chores. No doubt her aunt would already have had to take over cooking by now. She had only come out to these woods because Dudley had invited Piers over after school that day and she had no desire for another round of ‘Harry Hunting’. She shuddered in dread at thought of returning ‘home’ and briefly thought of spending the night in the woods, something she had done a handful of times since she started exploring the stretches of wilderness that marked the barrier between the suburbs and the countryside, but dismissed the idea. She needed to smuggle her homework out from the hiding place inside her mattress in her cupboard before school tomorrow so needed to go back. Anyway, it would be a bad idea to do anything that could raise any suspicions tonight - not if she was planning on disappearing again tomorrow. Resigning herself to the misery that would be her evening, she hastily pulled a rubber band from her pocket and tied it to a tree branch as a marker of this location, looked around to stick as much of the scene in her memory as possible, then left at a run.

Arriving at the Dursleys 20 minutes later, she went to the back door that led into the kitchen in the hopes that the Dursley’s might have finished their meal as they usually would have by this time and that by leaving dirty plates for her to wash she was being signalled that she could finish the measly amounts they hadn’t been able to. Instead she was met by a sterile kitchen and an irate Petunia glaring at her from the kitchen table where she had been sat sorting through packets of seeds for the garden. _Nice to see you too_ , Harry mentally remarked, looking down at the seed packets and inwardly wincing at the number with thorns as it was undoubtably she who would have to maintain them.

“Finally decided to come back, did you?” Petunia hissed, long neck extended and lips pursed in a way that made the horse-ish nature of her face even more prominent. “Who do you think you are, sauntering in here after leaving us to do all your work for you?” Yea, cooking all your meals and cleaning up your messes is my job. That makes a lot of sense “Well we wont stand for it. We took you in. We clothe you and feed you, give you what rightfully belongs to Dudley and what do we get in return?! Nothing.” Petunia’s voice had been rising higher and higher throughout her expletive and by the end was a screech so high Harry half thought bats might confuse it for echo-location and start swarming to this spot. She felt amusement rise within her, but kept her face perfectly blank in the neutral style she adopted when she wanted people to project whatever emotion others wanted her to feel onto it.

“And don’t think apologies will get you out of this either!” Her aunt continued, “You are a manipulative little brat but I see through you. You knew exactly what trouble you would cause and you did it anyway. You have done nothing but harm this family since the moment you were dropped on our doorstep. That was the worst day of our lives!” _Well we’re in agreement there_ , Harry mused, and waited silently for her aunt to run out of steam and delegate whatever punishment she was about to choose onto her.

“To your cupboard, now. You can go to school tomorrow but you are to come back right away and finish your chores. You are not eating again until you are caught up. I’m not rewarding you when you haven’t earned it.” With that Petunia rose and grasped Harry’s upper arm, fingernails digging into the bruises that already marred it, and dragged her towards the stairs. Any other day, Harry thought, this punishment would be the best she could hope for, but there was no way she would be returning straight after school tomorrow. There was no use asking for leniency, that would cause Petunia to call in Uncle Vernon and she would likely instruct Dudley to keep an eye out and drag her all the way home if necessary, but to directly disobey an order would have consequences. They were worth it, of course, magic would be worth anything, but she still wished Petunia had just given her to her uncle now so the whole mess tomorrow could be avoided. It would be a Friday so she wouldn’t even have the comfort of needing to be presentable for school the next day. As she was roughly shoved onto the mattress and plunged into darkness as the door slammed behind her, Harry forced herself to remember the good that the next day would bring. If Draco showed up, and she couldn’t bear to let herself believe that he wouldn’t, then she could get some answers. She would need to be better prepared than she was today, of course. She would spend the evening setting out her goals, what information about herself she would be willing to reveal and what she wouldn’t, plan for possible complications and rehearse lies until they were believable enough that even she wouldn’t be able to detect the deception. That was plenty of distraction from the emptiness of her stomach, and the pain in her arm was even now lessening to nearly nothing. Tuning out the sound of the TV in the living room and the yells from Dudley as he played upstairs, Harry prepared for the wonders that the next day could bring.


	3. Lucius takes an interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the plot doesn't go much farther in this chapter, but rest assured the next one will see Harry come to Malfoy Manner. I'm currently planning the next one to be Draco's perspective, followed by Harry's and then mort likely Narcissa's but if anyone has any opinions on that comments are much appreciated!

Chapter 3 - Lucius takes an interest

-LMLMLM-

The Dark Lord was not dead. Lucius knew this. It was not simply the fact that the Dark Mark on his arm may be hidden but still pulsed with something that felt almost like life. It was not simply the fact that he had seen enough of his greatness to know he could not be finished so suddenly - so, anti-climatically.It was not even the fact that there were still rumours and whispers about strange events that hinted at something bigger to come. Rather, it was the fact that if he dared doubt and he did return, the consequences would be... unimaginable. So Lucius waited, enjoying the ineptitude of the government and the comfort of his position, but always waiting just in case.

When he was being truly honest with himself - something he was very careful about doing - Lucius could admit that he was not worse off now than he had been during his time as an active Death Eater. If anything, he was better. There was a lot less pain, a lot less worry, a lot more time for the extravagant comforts that were his right as the powerful pureblood he was. Still, having seen the beginnings of something so wonderful, having been witness to that much pure power and potential, it was hard to be satisfied with the mundane little games everyone else wasted their lives with. Avoiding Azkaban had been almost laughably easy (at least in retrospect), and with his reputation among those who truly mattered only heightened by the power vacuum created upon the incarceration or disappearance of many of his one-time and maybe still allies, there was not much higher he, and the name Malfoy, could go. But the tedious bureaucracy of avoiding getting his hands dirty while still working to... influence... in a society so afraid of change it resisted progress as much as regression was only satisfying when some higher aim was clearly ascertainable. He was magically powerful on top of being socially and politically so, but he had long ago accepted that that spark of wild brilliance that those such The Dark Lord - or even, regrettably, Dumbledore - possessed was not something he could emulate himself and so his path to glory would come from aligning himself correctly and reaping the rewards once they had done their work. That was his duty to his family, as he saw it, and while set moral codes were not something he usually considered worth concerning himself with, preserving his family and thus the Malfoy name at any cost had been a doctrine that had served him well.

That didn’t mean he was ready for another war quite yet. As much as he thrived on being on the winning side, the occasional ache from the echoes of past curses and the memory of seeing abject fear in the faces of his wife and child when danger came far too close for comfort was not something he could quite bring himself to actively pursue. He was not like Rosier or Bella, so obsessed it came at the cost of self-preservation, and he was certain that someone as Slytherin as the Dark Lord would appreciate the benefits of having his followers continue to operate and spread their subtle influence in safety while he was indisposed. Almost certain, at least. Some were doing more than he, he knew, to bring about his return. But they were living in hovels and following fantasies and did not have the responsibilities that he did as the head of such an important family! The Dark Lord would have to understand, and furthermore would honour him for his tactical thinking, when the time came that he would answer for his choices. If he knew anything it was how to play the winning side, and so long as he did nothing to actively detriment or ignore facilitating his Lord’s return to power, then securing his comfort now could only be good.

And then Draco had mentioned the who spoke in Parseltongue. A boy who appeared out of nowhere, who no one had heard of, who came across Draco of all people. It could not be a coincidence. It was either by design or by fate. Either way, this could be the Dark Lord reaching out and he could not be seen to ignore it.

Sharing a look with his wife, he let her speak first as she was the least likely to alarm Draco by demanding information immediately. As any son should, Draco sought his father’s approval and as much as he cherished his son for working so tirelessly to replicate his own image and honour their family at such a young age, he knew that Draco was prone to hyperbole when he sensed there was an answer Lucius wanted. As Draco continued to ramble on about hisses with an excitement and earnestness he equal parts adored and knew he would have to train out of the boy lest he become a Hufflepuff, Lucius searched for any sign of exaggeration or evidence that he had somehow been misinformed.

“He told you he had spoken to it?” Lucius used the tone of voice he reserved for the harshest of negotiations and the few times he had suspected Draco of testing the limits of his rules further than he could reasonably allowed. It had the desired effect and the careful manners Draco had been clinging too slipped completely as he hastened to explain. The answer he gave was not the sort he would usually accept. Childish attempts at divining motives and prevaricating about feelings was hardly reliable - but he remembered, and would till the day he died, the shiver and tingle of magic that arose every time he heard words spoken in that tongue. If that was what Draco had felt, well he would hardly have described it any better. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, Lucius forced himself to abandon any conclusions he might be leaping too and instead decided he needed to gather information directly from the source. A name as mundane as the one Draco had given would hardly be useful in a search, but he trusted his son was not so naive as to depart without first gathering some more concrete information about the boy.

“And did he tell you anything else? How you might contact him perhaps, if he didn’t know of magic he would no doubt be very interested in you.” The flattery of the boy’s possible interest, appealing to the loneliness he knew his son sometimes felt being an only child, would be a lie if the suspicion clouding his mind was true, but the danger his son could have been in kept him from fully considering that. Regardless, his son failed to notice.

“I don’t know where he lives or anything, but we’re meeting in the same place tomorrow. If you’ll let me, that is.” Lucius almost snorted at those final words, the absurdity of denying Draco and himself this meeting was beyond anything... but that gave him a day. He had a day to work out what this was and make his plans, and he would take advantage of every moment he could get. As he rose from the table automatically and barely remembered to instruct his son to join him once he had eaten. He needed to view that memory, to verify what he knew with almost crushing certainty. As he ventured to his study it occurred to him that the dread he was feeling was not what he should associate with the possible return of the Dark Lord. There was excitement there too, of course, but the thought of his son alone and unprotected, the thought that they could have been watched and studied for months in order for this seemingly impromptu meeting to take place, the thought that if his Lord decided to be vengeful it could be his son that bore the cost, they did not sit comfortable.

He had quite forgotten, he realised as he reached his study and absently poured himself a drink, to ask for the age of the boy. He supposed he would find out soon enough, but hearing Draco talk he had just assumed that Harry Owens would be an age similar to that of Draco’s. Draco longed for friends and the excitement he had seen in his sons eyes was not one of just witnessing immense power, but rather one of finding a peer. He was, of course, too young to fully comprehend what a Parselmouth of an age similar to the fall of the Dark Lord could mean, the possibility probably hadn’t even occurred to him, but Lucius knew that whatever had happened that night in Godrick’s Hollow, his Lord would not be returning from it unchanged. If it were possible to do so, it would have already been done. And although it seemed absurd that the soul of such a powerful wizard would be forced to reincarnate and become a newborn once again, every possible method the Dark Lord could employ to return seemed absurd also. He did not know the precise measures he had taken to his ensure immortality, nor did he have any true insight into what that Potter chit could have possibly done that night. But regardless of the means that had led the girl to survive, she was squirrelled away behind whatever protections that old fool Dumbledore saw fit and was quite impervious to even his attempts to change that fact. Lucius could admit to himself he did expect some grander return. He had previously assumed that in all likelihood his Lord had become disembodied and was off somewhere ethereal gaining strength until he could return with full force, but it did not seem impossible that upon losing a body due to a presumably rebounded killing curse, such was the publicised story of that night, whatever was left came to be reborn again and a child would be the result.

Lucius repressed a shudder, imagining the power of the Dark Lord in the body of a child. It still seemed unlikely, but he must be prepared for the most extreme scenario and if this is instead simply a previously unknown resurgence of the Slytherin line, then having control of that child would be worth it in and of itself. He had never heard of a Parselmouth who did not possess great power, and even if that were simply because the history books chose not to report on those who did not see success, such a gift would be so prized in some circles that no matter what else the boy would have value.

Still musing, he carefully intoned the password - Esse est percipi - and ran his wand along the gold line set into the deep varnished wood of his bookshelf. The shelves dissolved and at his direction the marble basin glided from intricately designed hideaway and into the centre of the room. Draco entered not soon after and Lucius noted with amusement his sons badly hidden wonder and curiosity at the object. His instinct was to simply procure the memory and dismiss the boy, but he supposed he should reward his son for coming to him with the information he had gathered and so he decided to explain what it was he saw. His sons words about trust affected him more than he let show, and he was hasty to explain himself, but before long he had procured that silvery thread that could change everything and he found his attention fully captured by what he was about to witness.

After entering the Pensive, Lucius was mildly alarmed to see his well bred and well mannered son venturing through the wilderness looking far more unkempt then he would ever allow himself to be in his fathers presence. The pink flush to his cheeks and mud on his finely tailored shoes as well as the absence of his assigned house elf told Lucius Draco had once again given into his impulses and let his farcical desire for independence and adventure supersede duty and decorum. He made a mental note to have words with the boy, realising with a start that if Harry Owens was somehow manifesting the Dark Lord such an entrance would hardly endear him to him, but thoughts of manners were hastily overtaken by panic when Draco rocketed back as some vile snake dared to attack him. Protectiveness and fury rose in him and it was only the reassurance that his son was safe and sitting just outside of the pensive that allowed him to keep his demeanour. The entrance of the Owens boy was both sudden and strangely anticlimactic. The sound of Parseltongue was instantly recognisable, but having already accepted the likelihood of that fact he quickly moved on to assessing the rest of him. He was small, smaller than Draco by perhaps a head, and swamped by pathetic muggle rags he would not allow his house elves to be seen in. A chaotic mop of hair had a similar affect of highlighting just how scrawny the rest of him was and the only thing that seemed remotely notable were his bright green eyes that almost seem to glow as he peered up through his bent glasses and matted fringe. If he were asked his opinion on any relation between this boy and his Lord, he would say that with a great deal of refinement the boy could perhaps pass for a cousin given their similar colouring, but there was nothing about how the boy carried himself or spoke, when he did, that would suggest he possessed any great power or could be hiding a secret identity as the reborn Dark Lord. He looked so muggle, so untamed, that Lucius found himself almost repulsed and was tempted to disregard any notion that the boy could carry some link to his leader. If the wizard did return and saw this memory, Lucius could easily imagine himself being punished for daring to consider that someone so outwardly pathetic might be on his level. Still, he had spoken the ancient and most noble of languages, and his careful demeanour as he aptly lied and skirted around Draco’s excited questioning did seem unusually refined for one so young. Perhaps this was a test for Lucius, though Lucius struggled to imagine his Lord would stoop so low as to disguise himself as something so common. The more obvious answer was that the body did indeed know nothing of magic and that carefully hidden intrigue on his face when magic was mentioned was completely genuine. The odds that an unknownParseltongue would exist, find themselves in the muggle world and then happen upon the family best able to make use of that skill seemed astronomically low, but regardless this was either some move by the Dark Lord or the hand of fate and he would simply have to formulate a response that would work for either. It was even possible, he supposed, that the boy was the reincarnated Dark Lord but all memory of that fact had been lost or locked away. To be responsible for reintroducing his leader to magic and guiding him on the path to reclaiming the world that was rightfully his would secure his own glory, and as Lucius rose from the pensive it was this marvellous idea that occupied him.

Hastily dismissing his son, he made his decision. He and Draco would meet with the boy tomorrow. He would ingratiate himself with him, it would be unwise to risk threats or force or anything that could turn the boy and his potentially inordinate power against him, and use whatever means he could to increase his influence from there. Draco would be useful in this, he knew. The trust his son could gain and the information he could resultantly pass on as a result of being of a similar age would likely be invaluable, and it was not as if that would harm Draco. On the contrary, if Harry Owens - and how he hated that common name - had power then positioning Draco as his closest confidant would ensure his son’s legacy and give him, in an instant, the power that Lucius himself took years to curate. Tomorrow he would prepare the manner and coach Draco in the best ways to win the boy’s allegiance and persuade him to come with them, as well as what information about the boy they would need to gather. He was young enough that he must have some form of family who were, given his current theory that the boy was indeed unaware, likely muggles and thus easy to use to his ends. If he could find where the boy lived Harry and his family would have no option but to accept their influence, and given the boys frankly insulting state of deprivation then the wealth and luxury the Malfoy’s could offer would go a long way to persuading the boy to their side, if he needed persuading at all.

His wife had wisely chosen not to interrupt his thinking and was in their usual evening lounge reading something Lucius didn’t stop to identify when he chose to join her. She acknowledged him with a pleasant smile and the offer of refreshments, but did not push him to talk which Lucius always appreciated. On the surface, one would assume that Narcissa Malfoy née Black was akin to any other perfectly bred pureblood maiden and lived out her days for the simple, vapid pleasures of parties and bearing children. She never openly expressed too keen an interest in Lucius’ affairs, nor did she push for more control than Lucius was willing to give her, and if he were a less attentive husband he is quite confident he never would have seen the sharp intelligence or cunning in her that he often feared rivalled his own. All three of the Black sisters were more than they seemed, but it was only Narcissa that took full advantage of her station and abilities and came to have a life that was truly worthy of her merits. Lucius had liked Andromeda well enough once, but acting the part of the perfect pureblood only to turn around and disgrace the family as she did was not something Lucius could understand nor forgive. Bellatrix was brilliant in her way but her love for the Dark Lord had taken a turn further than even Lucius thought was quite reasonable and that was before Azkaban had its way with her. Narcissa, however, knew what was best for her and had chosen a man she could devote herself too who devoted himself equally in return. He had honestly never expected their love to remain genuine beyond their vows or to remain strong as they grew. As a hormone fuelled and naive teenager he had seen her beauty and her station and not searched further, but as she slithered her way into his heart he had found a mind of unique insight and a nature that nurtured his own attributes. He would never admit to anyone just how many of his plans and actions had been her suggestion, and if it were not for the fact that she had always been perfectly content for her husband to receive the glory, he was not certain he would be quite so receptive to her challenging nature. She could read a situation better than anyone he knew, and her instincts for people had not led him astray yet. For all this, Lucius found he could trust her absolutely to both carry out his will and assist him in determining what that was, and he knew she would be crucial in the success of this next venture.

“Draco seemed rather delighted by his find, don’t you think?” Lucius began, reclining on the teal velvet sofa by the arched french windows that overlooked the grounds. Smiling pleasantly, Narcissa laid down her book to answer.

“No more so than you, I would say, though that earnest excitement of his is not an expression I have seen on anyone outside of childhood.”

“Did Draco provide you with any more insight after I left?”

“None at all, he seemed quite lost in his contemplations. I believe he hopes for a friend. He may have stopped asking for a brother but the look that was in his eyes is quite the same, not that he could have possibly got to know the boy well enough in such a short interaction to divine whether their characters are compatible.”

“That can be done tomorrow, I believe I shall invite him to the Manor. His nativity of magic seems genuine and I can think of no better way to do our duty to the magical community than extend our welcome to him.”

“I am sure he will be perfectly delighted. Will you extend his family the same curtesy?”

“If it is as I suspect the family is hardly relevant. Not even squibs would account for the level of naivety he displayed and so he is most likely orphaned, adopted or otherwise misplaced. The Dark Lord himself was raised unaware of the legacy he would inherit, a parallel that in this situation can only be an advantage.” Narcissa did not reply to this, but her eyes flashed with unasked questions and Lucius found himself compelled to answer.

“To deny this child his birthright is a crime. I cannot divine as yet his origins, but we are uniquely placed to allow him to surpass them. I shall ask questions tomorrow, of course, and I am sure you will do the same, but the truth I feel will be neither obvious nor easy to garner. His power should also be investigated I suppose, so we may assist him with his growth into it.”

“Naturally. I do however feel that patience is a virtue. It would not do to overwhelm the child tomorrow and scare him off. A day for first impressions on both sides will do wonders for future relations, and we will likely have to reach out to the family in some way or another. From what you have seen, do you believe Draco will benefit from this acquaintance, it has been far too long since Draco has had someone worthy of his time to play with.” Lucius snorted at that. It seems his wife has formed the opinion that the child really is just a child and her motherly instincts have kicked in.

“Beyond the obvious the boy had yet to impress. He is younger, I think, than Draco and wears clothes that are by far the worst I have seen on even a muggle. All displays of manners were initiated by Draco, but that being said he naturally seemed intrigued by Draco’s superior knowledge and with proper guidance I am sure he could be taught.”

“You would spend the time then, you intend to give him more than a cursory glance and a name to call on?”

“That is yet to be seen. I am inclined to investigate the matter fully, but by no means think I am offering you a new son yet my darling.” Narcissa smiled with a self deprecating air and the conversation turned to dinner plans and ideas for the tour. Both went to bed satisfied they were prepared for the day ahead, assured in the knowledge that the child and his history would be well known to them both by the time they next laid down to rest.


	4. Meetings and Arrivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets Lucius, arrives at the Manor and is given a makeover by Motty.

Chapter 4 - Meetings and Arrivals

-HPHPHP-

Harry’s school day passed in a blur of monotony. She had, after lengthy struggle, decided that invisibility would give her the greatest chance of getting through Primary school more or less unscathed, and her carefully tailored lower-average marks, blank, unassuming expressions and seating position carefully hidden behind the class know-it-all meant that she was largely convinced that her teacher had forgotten she existed. This was a marked improvement over all her previous teachers who had unequivocally loathed her. This was for a number of reasons, the top three being Dudley’s devotion to making that the case, her aunt’s compliance with her son’s ploys (or complete and utter blindness to Dudley’s true nature, Harry thought it was most probably a mixture of both) and the fact that in every year prior to this one Harry had managed to find herself at the centre of a series of completely bizarre catastrophes that no one could explain but that she would still find herself blamed for. It had begun in nursery where her anger at Dudley accusing her of stealing a classmate’s drawing had somehow coincided with every pencil in the classroom snapping in two. In reception all the oversized Lego bricks she was playing with somehow fused so Dudley was no longer able to smash apart her creation, thus ending Lego play until room could be found in the budget to buy new ones - a phenomena that had still not occurred. Year 1 had been the infamous blue wig incident, and that teacher was such a malicious gossip that from then on every adult around had eyed her warily, something the other students soon caught on to and used to great effect of when trying to get out of punishment for their own misdeeds. Harry was sometimes tempted to feel righteous anger at the injustice of it all, but then she would remember the explosions, Piers’ loud sobs as he cradled his broken leg, the look of fear on the other kids’ faces as they wondered how someone as scrawny as her could fling a boy that far, and thought that she was probably lucky no one was willing to admit to themselves that she was doing freakish enough things to warrant serious intervention. That was all before though. Milton’s guidance, her desire to not spend the entirety of her existence in pain in her cupboard and the sickening knowledge that she really could hurt people if she wanted to, had finally given her the willpower needed to force down that bubbling core of power that seemed to surge out of her every time one of these freakish events took place. It was still there, Harry felt it grow denser and angrier with every passing day, but self control was imperative to survival and she was not about to fall victim to impulse.

‘Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?’ a small voice in her head whispered. She hushed it. Agreeing to meet with Draco again might have been somewhat impulsive, but discovering magic was a high enough end to justify it and the more she knew about the matter the better able she would be to control it within herself. If there were lots of people like her, then they must know some trick to keeping it contained that meant she could still use the bits she wanted to. Other than speaking to snakes, her decision to never let that flood of power overwhelm her again had come at the price of losing all the neat little tricks that made the universe seem a little more on her side. The lock on her cupboard door never pinged open in the middle of the night any more. People never forgot her and wandered off in the middle of some reprimand either. Her dedication to subversion and manipulation meant this had not left her completely undefended, but that bubbling warmth under her skin that felt like what she imagined hugs would be every time one of those little miracles happened was something she missed with every fibre of her being. So long as she didn’t have reveal just how destructive and evil her full power could be, learning to let a little out would be worth almost anything.

It was easy enough to slip away from Dudley and his friends at the end of the day. Darting into the girls’ bathroom and barricading herself in one of the stalls, she breathed a sigh of relief that Dudley’s short attention span was not so bad that he had forgotten the telling off he had gotten last week from following in after her. She wanted to be quick in case someone spotted her on her way to the meeting spot and and forced her to hide or take a longer route so she hardly spared a thought as she pulled off the dirty and slightly torn shirt she had been wearing the day before and swapping it for a clean one of Dudley’s she had smuggled out of the laundry that morning. It was still monstrously large and rather crumpled from being stuffed into the bottom of her backpack but it was better than the other one and she had decided to play along with Draco’s command about better clothing as much as she could. Stepping out to the sinks she stared into the mirror and sighed. Her hair resembled some combination of a birds nest and a haystack and all attempts to flatten it simply made her hand feel like it was on a trampoline. Moving on to what she could fix she pulled off her glasses and rewound the tape that held it together in an effort to make the whole thing marginally less crooked, then splashed her face clean before shoving them back on. The large square plaster on her forehead she had taken to wearing since Dudley and his gang discovered that touching her scar would send her into convulsions of pain had begun to go brown at the edges so she pulled her fringe over it as much as she could. Nothing made much of a difference but the ritual of changing her appearance helped centre her mind into who she would need to be for the next few hours. She was not scrawny 8 year old girl Harriet Potter who spent her life hiding from her cousin, She was scrawny 8 year old boy Harry Owens who was off to discover magic. Deciding not to take the risk that Dudley and his friends were waiting outside the door or that her aunt was waiting to ensure she did come back as instructed - though that seemed unlikely - Harry went back to the furthest stall and climbed onto the lid of the toilet to she could reach the small window with the broken lock. Most children wouldn’t fit through but Harry had always been small and after throwing her backpack out before her it was easy enough to slide through. She was now around the side of the building near the equipment shed, the bins and the door to the kitchens. It was one of her favourite places to hide as the bins blocked much of the centre of the path and would effectively shelter her from either side depending on which one was the threat. If things got really desperate she could even slip between them, though the grime and smell meant she rarely took use of that - the primary occasion springing to mind being the time the head chef Mr Wethers and the year 6 teacher Mrs Banabray had chosen the spot outside the kitchen door where most of the staff hid to smoke to engage in behaviour that Harry was too young to know about or wish to acknowledge. No one was there today though and Harry warily edged round to the front where parents loitered and gossiped and yelled at their playing children to ‘Hurry Up!’. She didn’t spot Dudley and breathed a sigh of relief as she hastily exited the gates and turned into the side street that would lead to the forest.

Had Dudley and his gang decided to go to any houses other than Dennis’ they would have been in the opposite direction to the way she was headed. Harry had of course anticipated the threat of them being at Dennis’ and listened in on the boys’ conversation during maths where they had unanimously decided to go to the Polkiss residence. Alas, Dennis had clearly decided he needed to go back and grab something or else had changed their minds as the moment she rounded the corner she saw the crowd and froze. She was spotted immediately and taunts and jeers filled the air as the boys began to give chase. Harry was not worried about being caught, she knew she was faster and was already a good 20 metres away when the hunt began but also knew she shouldn’t lead them to the woods for fear they manages to track her to the meeting point. She cursed under her breath a few of the multitude of insults that were an integral part of Parseltongue as she darted down the road that would lead towards the playground. Normally it would be enough to make it to the scrubland around the playground and climb one of the trees no one else could then simply wait until they got tired of pacing around the base, but that would not work today. The frequency with which she did that, however, would mean that the boys would assume where she was heading and so when she took the longer path they would take the shortcut in an attempt to cut her off. The longer road was not particularly convenient in getting her to her destination, but she had jumped the old fence that separated it from the grimy pond bank enough times to know that it was possible. From there all she would have to do is keep herself hidden behind the shrubs that littered the bank and edge her way back in the direction she came from. Leaving the wheezing breaths of her cousin and the shouts of his friends behind her she executed her plan on autopilot and found it went off without a hitch. What she had forgotten to contemplate, however, was the oozing mud of the riverbank that seeped into her over-large trainers and coated the hem of her trousers. By the time she reached the woods she had also had to duck through quite a few stretches of brambles and was forcibly reminded of Stig from ‘Stig of the Dump’ as she contemplated her new wilderness-beaten appearance. Pulling the sticks out of her hair only further ruffled the mess of tangles and looking down at the shirt she had stolen she could only hope that the Dursleys dismissed it as one they had already given her as it was in no shape to be worn by him again. This was not the impression she wanted to give and found herself half-hoping that Draco found himself under attack again so his strange clothes would become equally tarnished. It was strange, she thought, that a boy who could not be much older than herself, would be so interested in fashion but then again she knew nothing of wherever he came from so perhaps it was normal there. Her instincts told her the boy was very rich but was hesitant to assume that the rules she used to judge normal people would apply to him.

Eventually nearing the clearing, she was happy to note she remembered the way to their pre-arranged spot and that even with the diversion she was still five minutes early. Seeing movement she stopped short glanced around anxiously until she spotted the squat wrinkled creature Draco had said was an elf rather than the boy himself. Not knowing why this was and feeling slightly wrong footed at not being the first to arrive she considered remaining hidden but the thrum of excitement that pulsed through her at the thought of interacting with something magical drove her forwards.

“Um, hello. It’s Motty isn’t it?” The elf spun around and she was met with a pair of huge bulbous brown eyes that looked like they might pop out of their sockets if she was given too bad a fright. Rather than clothes it wore a ragged looking grey sheet and though Harry couldn’t tell if it was trembling with fear or vibrating with excitement every part of it seemed to be on edge.

“You is remembering! I is Motty Master Owens and I is here to takes you to the path as that is being a far more proper place to meet and little master Draco was not being sure where in the woods yous twos met but I is knowing so Master Malfoy is telling me to come and find you and bring you.” Motty had started to walk away during her speech, beckoning for Harry to follow, and she was hasty to oblige for fear of losing the scampering creature. Coming out into the light of the open pathway she was about to reply when she spotted Draco and to her horror, a man who bore such a striking resemblance to him it could only be his father. Spying her too Draco grinned and started forwards before a heavy hand on his shoulder stilled him and the boy stiffened like a board and imitated his father’s own domineering expression. Not moving forwards, Harry looked between the two and gulped. This could either be alright or really, really bad. Harry usually found that adults were easier than children because they made a lot more assumptions and were generally uninterested in any real interaction, but the man’s presence here combined with his acute stare set off warning bells in her mind. She didn’t know what Draco had told his parents or why the man was here but all her wistful imaginings of sitting with Draco in the woods as he told her everything she wanted to know seemed to increasingly improbable. Even if adults were usually easier to deal with when keeping her own secrets, they were also far harder to get secrets out of and the mantra of ‘don’t ask questions’ that her family had drilled into her was not the sort she was prone to forget when grown ups were around.

She wanted to turn and run and come up with a new plan that didn’t have to deal with him, but it was too late for that and his stiff posture and tight face told her he was not the fake smiles and simpering voice sort of adult but rather the sort that cared about manners and behaviour and would expect her to step forwards respectfully rather than cower into the shadows, so that’s what she did. Draco seemed mixed between nervous and excited which fit with what she had observed the day before while his probably-father sneered a little in a way that would have made her flush and bow her head if she were not so preoccupied with presenting a well mannered front. Motty scampered to the man’s side and stood to attention while Harry walked to a safe enough distance that they could talk normally but she could run if necessary and waited in silence. They all stood still for a moment examining each other before the man gave a sharp nod and pushed his son forwards a little. Draco seemed at a loss for a moment and looked between the two before the man raised an eyebrow and he flushed.

“Right. Thank you for upholding my request and meeting me here Ha-Owens. May I present to you my father, Lord Malfoy. Father, my I present to you Harry Owens.” The words were stiff and clearly some recited formal address that, along with the dad being called Lord, further supported Harry’s theory that these were rich people who cared a lot about manners. Harry would have had no idea how to respond properly to normal posh people and even less to strange potentially magical posh people who wore weird old fashioned clothes and wouldn’t stop staring at her. Harry paused in case Lord Malfoy was going to speak next but when nothing came of it but a tense silence she stepped forward a little and spoke her best guess at a polite response.

“Thank you for meeting me too Dr-Malfoy. And you too Lord Malfoy sir.” Draco was looking at his father and so Harry focused her gaze upon him too, waiting rigidly until a small smirk crossed his face and he bowed his head a little.

“It is a pleasure, Mr Owens. I gather you are unaccompanied?” There was not much of a question in his tone and the mans gaze did not move from her as he asked, leaving Harry somewhat unsure as to whether an answer was required. There was something... uneasy, about the man in front of her. He radiated a self assuredness and power that told her he was a man both accustomed to getting what he wants and well equipped to force the issue if necessary. Part of this was undoubtedly his status, but the tug in that ball of power she kept shut up inside her made her think there was something more as well. She’d felt a similar pull the day before around Draco, she realised belatedly, but had mistaken it for nervousness at him seeing her speak to the snake. Lord Malfoy’s was colder, though, and more defined. She did not trust him, but at the same time felt drawn towards that strange alien and yet familiar feeling, and with a start Harry knew what she sensed was that they were both well and truly magic. She might have already decided she believed, but this affirmation made her feel like something was caught in her throat.

“I am, sir. My family doesn’t expect me until later” She finally answered, curt and to the point and well mannered enough he would be unlikely to prod for more details, but also with the warning that she was expected later meaning her disappearance would not go without note. He didn’t need to know that Harry severely doubted the Dursleys would raise a finger to find her.

“Father says you can come with us to the Manor,” Draco interrupts, having seemingly run out of whatever patience he had for the introductions. “The grounds are far better than anything here and of course you’ll have to see the house itself. We’re having pheasant for supper and the strawberry tarts we’ll have for dessert are better than any muggle thing you’ve ever tasted I’m sure.” Draco’s accent was far snootier than Dudley’s but the spoilt, bragging tone was eerily reminiscent. If they were not both magical Harry was not sure she would have liked him. Not that I like him anyway she chastised herself. We hardly know each other. It will not do to grow attached. Despite this, the thrill of being actually invited somewhere, someone wanting to spend time with her, was overwhelming. Combine that with the lure of food and she almost found herself willing to disregard all sensibilities and immediately accept.

“Motty, take the boy to the front gates. I’ll allow him entrance from inside.” Lord Malfoy commanded sharply and any answers Harry might have had to Draco’s invitation died on her tongue. She looked down at Motty who was nodding heavily, ears flapping, as she answered her master and then the elf was looking at and speaking to her.

“I is taking you now master Owens. All you is doing is holding on and you is getting there quickly.’’ With that Motty grabbed her over-large sleeve and Harry looked on in bewilderment at the sudden turn of events as Draco and Lord Malfoy disappeared with a crack just before she felt the world twist and with a sickening squeezing sensation everything went black.

With a nauseous feeling Harry opened her eyes and tried to focus on keeping her balance. Had she had anything in her stomach to expel she felt sure she would have done so and it wad through raw willpower that she was not on the ground coughing up bile. Eventually gaining enough equilibrium to focus on her surroundings, she saw a pair of domineering black gates baked by an impenetrable mist that did not match the warm breezy day it was. Releasing Motty’s hold she looked down at the small elf who seemed to be experiencing none of the difficulties she had with the teleportation and was about to thank her for bringing her (even if she hadn’t requested it) when the gates opened and the landscape shifted.

The first thing she felt was a surge of warmth that tugged at her core much like the two Malfoy’s had. This, however, tingled over every part of her as if it were the air itself radiating magic, which Harry supposed wasn’t too unlikely a thought. She had read about waves and the electromagnetic spectrum, after all, and if they could be travelling through the air then magic must be able to as well. Concentrating on it she felt a thrill of anticipation and completeness while at the same time something within her felt suddenly and inexplicably sad. It was as if she had lost a limb or one of her senses and had been living without it for years and years and only now she was around it again did she realise what she had lost. It felt both new and old, strange and so natural she could not imagine ever being separated from it again. Most of all, though, it felt like nostalgia and it felt like belonging and, having felt neither before, Harry could only gape as it settled over her.

Then Draco was at her side, and he was guiding her forwards while at the edge of her perception Lord Malfoy seemed to be smirking at her loss of composure.

“... and those are the peacocks, impressive but not very friendly so don’t get too near.” Harry finally caught up to what Draco was saying to stare at the huge white birds that sauntered the grounds. Most of the area was just long stretched of perfectly pristine and vivid grass, but at various points were other features such as a large white fountain of some sort of bird, a vibrant stretch of unrecognisable flowers and, far in the distance, what appeared to be some sort of maze. Harry knew she needed to pull herself together and not give into her gormless impulse to swing her head around in every direction and stare open mouthed. Instead she set her jaw and looked towards Draco who was gesturing ahead of them at... the largest building she had ever seen. Feeling like an idiot for not noticing it sooner she stared at the tall white pillars and the actual turrets that looked high and proud in front of her. Draco was prattling on about something to do with the architecture but Harry found herself to overwhelmed to absorb the information.

“Harry.” Draco snapped without any real venom and she quickly forced herself to bring her gaze back to him. His lip was smirking smugly while his eyes lit with pride as he took in her shocked state. There was a cough from behind them and Draco jumped, his eyes widening before he quickly remedied “I can call you Harry, right? You can call me Draco of course.” Sensing that this was some strange manners thing about last and first names, Harry hastily nodded.

“Sure, thanks Draco.” Draco grinned widely and his face seemed for an instant to shed the haughty pride it seemed to radiate at most other moments. She could see the gap from a lost tooth lurking in the back of his mouth and felt her own unwilling features smiling back at him.

“Good, there are parts of the tour I only like to give to my proper friends. It will be even more fun showing it all to you because you won’t have even heard of most of the cool stuff there are what with muggles being so behind and such. I’ll take you to my room first I think, it’s high up so you can get a better view of the grounds and of course I keep all the best stuff there so....” Draco trailed off as they reached the front door and they automatically swung open to admit them. Harry was once again assaulted by the finery on display and immediately felt small and unworthy in the large echoing room with wide glass windows and elegant spiral staircases leading up to a second level balcony that overlooked them all. Draco opened his mouth to continue his speech when Lord Malfoy stepped around to stand in front of them and spoke first.

“Malfoy Manor welcomes you, Mr Owens. I shall leave you to my son’s company for the moment as I doubt I could add much to his zealous praises.” Here the man’s eyes flicked to that of his son’s in slight reprimand at Draco’s lack of pose and decorum while in his presence, before returning to Harry. “My wife and I will join you when you walk the grounds but before then Draco can take you to the guest suites where he will see you properly prepared.” There was a slight sneer here that the man seemed to make some attempt to mask but still slipped through as he looked over Harry’s wild hair and ragged clothing. “Should you have any requirements or questions Draco should be fit to answer them and if not an elf will see to your needs.” With that he walked off and Draco, with a matching contemptuous look, gestured for her to follow in the other direction.

“What muggles think they’re doing wearing clothes like yours I will never know. I would never guess you were one of us by looking at you, but luckily all my clothes from last season were in storage so there’ll be something for you.” Harry held back any comments she might have had about how she found it equally strange that a boy would wear something other than trousers never mind something as fine and detailed as Draco’s cloak and instead focussed on keeping her face from showing any discomfort at the fact that her muggle fashion might have been more tolerable had she been able to wear something that fit her. “Here we are, Draco then supplied, and opened a large white and gold door to reveal a light square room with a four poster bed and landscape oil paintings decorating the walls. By one of the bay windows stood a varnished wood cabinet which Draco promptly strides up to and flung open.

“Motty” Draco called, and the elf who Harry guiltily realised had disappeared at some point on their journey to the house without her noticing, popped into being beside him. “Harry here needs some proper clothes. Get out the ones that re the right size and place the, on the bed.” Draco’s lack of manners irked her a bit, but Motty did not seem perturbed and hastily began to comply after eying Harry critically for a moment to assess her. Clothes quickly piled on the bed and Harry saw with dismay that there were not only the strange cloaks but also trousers and shirts. She couldn’t change in front of Draco, not with the still French bruises and the fact that she had let him believe she was a boy - even if she was wearing Dudley’s disgusting boxers anyway so he might not have noticed in any case. Looking around she saw with relief that the room held another door apart from the one they entered through and deduced that that would be a bathroom, she would change in there.

“These are all from the summer before last, you are much shorter than me I suppose. How old are you anyway?”

“Im eight, how about you?”

‘Really? I’m eight too but you really are much shorter. We might be due to go to Hogwarts together then, I’m born in June so if you turn nine before September then we’ll be the same.”

“We will be then. I’m younger than you but still earlier than September.”

“Oh, good. I suppose I’ll spare you the embarrassment of wearing something completely juvenile. Honestly I can’t believe I ever put up with wearing yellow. Here, you take that shirt, no not that one. That one there. Yes, and those trousers too I’m thinking of a dark grey robe so it will be good to have trousers to match. Once you’ve changed get Motty to make any adjustments for you.” Harry quickly snatched up the clothes and moved to the bathroom, once again wondering at just how different Draco seemed from every other child she’s met. The bathroom, like everything else, was grand almost to the point of being ludicrous and one wall was completely taken up by a pristine mirror that seemed to enlarge the already huge space even more. Glancing at her reflection she saw just how much she contrasted with the spectacle that was the room. Being around magic might make her feel like she belonged, but this house was not the sort of place someone like her was meant to end up. But Harry Owens would belong she reminded herself, and so for the second time that day she spun away from the mirror and started hastily donning clothes in the hopes it may aid her in shifting her persona.

The clothes might have looked stiff, but slipping them on Harry was shocked to feel something so soft slide against her skin. These might be second hand but they showed none of the signs of wear and tear that anything she got from Dudley had and she didn’t even have to look back at the mirror to know that she would hardly be able to recognise herself. Straightening up she jumped at a voice behind her.

“Much better dear, I would burn those other things.” She spun around and gaped in shock at the mirror that was talking to her. Was it spying? Would it report back to its owners that she was starvation level skinny, covered in bruises and a girl? Breathing deeply she forced herself to carry on as normal. If it’s purpose was to spy it would not have made itself known to her and even if it did report back these people knew nothing of who the Dursley’s were or how to find them.

“Are you sentient?” She found herself asking it, remembering the word from a sci-fi book she had hated but read anyway due the lack of anything else to occupy her time in the cupboard. The mirror laughed and it’s voice trilled out in the same tinkling tone.

“Oh my dear you are in over your head aren’t you. Best not worry yourself about what thinks and what doesn’t and instead fix that disaster you call hair. Your sleeves are too long as well and don’t even think about cuffing those trousers the fabric isn’t meant for it. Go call in that elf and she’ll fix you right up.”

“Um, okay. Thanks” Harry replied hesitantly, thinking that if the mirror did have sentience it was probably (and thankfully) a limited one as it seemed to be able to converse about nothing but clothes. Opening the door a crack she saw Draco no longer standing to the side of the bed but instead fully on it rummaging through the clothes. Feeling alien and uncomfortable in her new costume she silently signalled to Motty who scampered into the bathroom with her and after scrutinising her with wide eyes that made her skin crawl, flicked her hand and in an instant Harry felt her clothes shrinking around her. She gasped in shock and stepped back but Motty ignored her reaction and proceeded as if styling a random kid just discovering the magical world was something she did everyday.

“That is being much better. I is needing your glasses now to be fixed.” Harry did not want to part with her glasses and risk being nearly blinded in an unfamiliar environment, but there seemed to be little choice and Harry found herself wanting to experience a little more of the elf’s magic. She handed them over and barely had time to return her arm to her side before there was a flash and the elf was jamming her glasses back in her hand. Placing them back on her face her eyes widened in shock at the clarity she could now see with. Harry was pretty sure the prescription hadn’t changed and so would be unlikely to help her see further distances which she had always had trouble with, but there were no more scratches and the frames lay as straight as the day they had been made. Her aunt would probably accuse her of stealing a new pair and Dudley would no doubt snap them in no time but for now all she could do was marvel at what she could see. She would have been content to spend minutes doing nothing but stare around at her new environment but Motty seemed in no mood to let her and quickly moved on.

“You is now be sitting so I cans be looking at your hair. There is not much I thinks I can be doing but I can be trying to make it neat.” Harry promptly dropped to the floor facing the mirror and sat cross legged, something that seemed to surprise Motty as she looked between her and the chair Harry realise Motty had probably been intending her to sit um.

“Um sorry Motty, I thought the chair might make it so I was still too high up.” Motty’s eyes bulged even further at this and she quavered for a second before grinning widely, licked pooling in her eyes.

“Oh master Owens! You is being so considerate of Motty! I is liking you very much. There is not being many wizards that is thinking like you do.” Harry blushed and lowered her head, feeling an odd kinship with the strange creature in front of her. That was enough to allow her to only tense slightly as the elf advanced and began to gently prod and pull at her head. A brush appeared and although the locks did not by any means lie flat, they morphed from wild creature to thoroughly windswept which Harry took as progress. Motty did not seem satisfied with this and tutted at various intervals, before stopping in front of her to rearrange her fringe. As she parted the section over the large plaster that masked her scar her fingers stopped and she frowned in confusion.

“If Master Owens does not mind may you be telling me what is on your head.”

“Oh, this is a plaster. It’s fabric underneath and the edges are sticky so it can cover cuts and things to keep them clean and in case they bleed.”

“You is hurting! Oh Master Owens Motty is sorry she not be realising! I be fixing it right away and be punishing myself for not looking after you like I should! Can I be taking off this plasty thing so I can fix it?” The delight Motty had been emanating since Harry had inadvertently complimented her suddenly turned to despair and Harry jumped to intervene.

“No no don’t punish yourself! it’s fine really! It doesn’t hurt or anything and I’m not sure it’s the sort of thing that can be fixed. I just like to keep it covered.” Not knowing how to explain further, Harry thought distraction was the best path forward. “Do wizards not have plasters Motty? What do they do when they’re hurt?” The question did not completely relax Motty and she continued to twitch in distress but she calmed enough to answer.

“We is having similar I thinks. Medimask is good for covering up unsightly marks but we is good at fixing small hurts up very quick so we is using bandages only if it is very big or tricky to close up. I be taking your plaster now to see what I can do.” Before Harry could vocalise any protests, though what they would be she did not know, the elf had snapped her fingers and her forehead was suddenly exposed. Looking forward at the mirror Harry found seeing the scar almost as strange as the clothes. She had taken to wearing plasters over a year before and this one had fused to her skin so tight she had not had to think about it for over a month. While her skin was still pale, it seemed that in the heat of the past month she had tanned somewhat and the reddened lightning bolt stuck out in even starker contrast when surrounded by a square of far paler skin. A gasp from Motty brought her out of her reverie, and she turned her head to see the elf fixated on the mask, mouth gaping open.

“Is... everything okay Motty?” The elf nodded absently, shifting her stare from the scar to her eyes. She gazed deeply at her for a few tense moments, then in a far quieter and less shrill voice replied.

“Yes, all is being fine. You is...” Harry was at a loss and the expression must have shown on her face as the elf suddenly snapped to attention and changed her sentence. “I is not being able to fix this but if you is waiting I will find some Medimask as it is being perfect for this.” Without waiting for a reply the elf snapped out of existence and Harry waited anxiously wondering why her scar had prompted such a change in Motty’s demeanour. She arrived back before long and with her a long roll of something that looked like a cross between brown baking paper and masking tape. Tearing off a section the elf passed it to Harry.

“You is placing it on your forehead and it be doing the rest.” Harry did so and marvelled as the pale brown strip shifted itself to mould against her forehead, its colour melting into an exact replica of her own pale completion until she couldn’t even tell it was there.”

“That is being fine M-master Owens. You is pulling your fringe back now. It should not be coming off for many days but it is being good to be careful. I is thinking you is being ready to see master Draco now, you should be leaving your bag and clothes with me, Motty will be keeping it all safe.” Harry was not in the habit of leaving anything she owned unattended, but still felt some strange alliance with the elf who’s role, from what she had seen, seemed to be far more similar to her own than anything any of the Malfoy’s did. She hastily gathered her clothes and put them in her backpack before handing it over. The elf looked at her for another long moment, then seemed to come to a decision.

“I is thinking you be needing more of this in the future” she said in the same low voice she had been using since her scar had been revealed, opening the bag and putting the role of Medimask in as she spoke. “You is being very nice to Motty and I is thinking you is very good. My masters is... I not be ever speaking badly about my masters but I is hoping you will be being careful. I be seeing and telling nothing Master Owens.” By now Harry was feeling deeply unsettled and confused at what all this could mean. Was her scar magical somehow? She had had it for a long time and nothing special or interesting had happened behind the occasional twinge and of course the intense pain she felt when people touched it. She wanted to ask the elf to explain herself further but she was hastily retreating and opening the door for her to leave, averting her eyes as she did so. At least Motty seemed to be on her side in this all and so she would probably have the time to work out whatever this was before knowing about it mattered. One thing was for certain though, she would not be asking the Malfoys.

“Thank you for doing all of this Motty. You seem to be very nice too.” Harry said whilst leaving and the elf promptly shrieked and popped away. Hearing the crack of the elf’s disappearance Draco spun around and saw Harry in the doorway.

“About time, Motty is always such a fusser I was worried she would try and give you a complete haircut. Here put this on.” He advanced on her and thrust a deep grey cloak in her direction. The underside of the fabric was a satiny green and silver and green embroidery adorned the sleeves and hem. Harry wasn’t sure if she liked it or not but was certain that it was the finest thing she had ever worn. She pulled it on and Draco looked over her assentingly, causing Harry to tense against her sudden instinct to recoil in upon herself.

“I think that’s right. The sleeves need adjusting, why Motty left I have no idea. Motty!” He called out to the air and the elf popped back in front of them, no longer holding her bag and acting just as she had before any of whatever happened in the bathroom took place.

“Fix her robes then make yourself scarce.” Harry frowned at the rude command and thought that the elf’s strange reaction to her explanation for sitting on the floor made a little more sense. She was not about to offend Draco by pointing this out, however.

Her sleeves then shrunk in the same was as her shirt had before and the elf left again, leaving her with a smirking Draco.

“There. You look like an actual wizard now, even with the hair. You’re lucky to have been allowed on the property looking like you did before but this will work well. Come now I have so much to show you before we go out to the grounds.”

Draco turned and practically skipped out of the room, Harry following hastily behind him. Harry was quickly growing accustomed to Draco’s rudeness and forgot it quickly, instead finding herself smiling at the warmth bubbling up inside her chest. She looked like an actual wizard, she looked like something other than a scrawny and unwanted child. She could forget, for a while at least, about all the things that being Harriet Potter meant and instead enjoy being Harry Owens. She was about to see a wizarding house and a wizarding lawn and eat wizarding food and she could hardly wait.


	5. Manors, Malfoys and Minor Misgivings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second half of Harry’s time at the Manor, including a tour of the house and gardens, learning about blood politics, meeting Narcissa, being questioned and having another chat with a snake.

Chapter 5 - Manors, Malfoy’s and Minor Misgivings

-HPHPHP-

Draco had, true to his word, made the first step of the tour his bedroom. It, like most of the rooms she had glimpsed so far, was large and light with high ceilings and wide windows. Unlike the other rooms, however, it was filled with so many toys it would put both of Dudley’s bedrooms combined to shame. A large double bed with green silk sheets and silver hangings that would have dwarfed any normally sized bedroom rested against the side wall in the centre, the end overloaded with a variety of stuffed animals that looked simultaneously more realistic and softer than anything Harry had seen in the normal world. In front of the bed stood a large varnished walnut chest of a style that matched the closet, desk and bookshelf that lined the opposite wall, while the wall facing the door was overwhelmed with a huge bay window that stretched to the ceiling and a cushioned reading nook at the base. The walls were all cream but none were left bare, the main stretch not taken up by furniture stacked with what Harry immediately knew were broomsticks but that looked far too glossed and organised to ever be mistaken for something you might clean with. It was Harry’s guess that the myths were true and witches truly did fly on broomsticks, a thought that sent a swoop of delight and awed anticipation through her stomach as she imagined being able to fly. Why he would have so many and why they each looked to have such different designs was anyone’s guess, however.

“Of course I really am too old to actually play with any of these” Draco proclaimed, standing proudly in the centre of the room though with slightly pink cheeks as he gestured to the stuffed animals on the bed. “I really only keep them around now because of the workmanship. These are ‘Benny Hills’ products and are the finest you can get, the set probably costs more than your house, especially if what I’ve heard about muggle homes is true. Also it would probably break mother’s heart to see me grow up so though that’s inevitable of course after all it’s only a few years until Hogwarts.” He abruptly stopped talking, and Harry couldn’t quite tell if it was excitement or nerves that was causing Draco to ramble. Either way, Harry thought she could sympathise completely as she gazed around in awe, longing filling every fibre of her being. It had been a while since she had felt longing to such an extent, most likely because she had shut down any petty jealousy she had had of Dudley when she realised all that love and attention and luxury ever got him was a whiny voice, a lazy attitude and a disfiguring number of extra pounds. Harry was far better off expecting nothing from no one and looking after herself, and having never really been given the chance to play with toys the only possessions she could claim she truly needed in her life were the books that kept her from going insane during prolonged periods of isolation. Shoving all unwanted feelings aside, she turned her attention to Draco.

“Hogwarts, that’s that school right? The one you mentioned yesterday?” Draco snorted in response.

“It’s not just that school. It’s the school. Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry is the highest ranked institution for magical education in the world, even with Dumbledore as headmaster. You really do sound like such a muggle sometimes.”

“And muggles are—“

“People who can’t do magic of course. That’s who you live with right? In the muggle world?” Damn, he’s already onto questions was Harry’s immediate thought. She did not want to have to answer questions about the norm... no, muggle, world even if she had spent time thinking up suitably vague responses to the subject that contained enough questions in return to coax Draco back into talking about himself.

“Um, I guess so. So magic is a secret from them? Do none of them know about it?”

“None of them should that’s for sure. Some do if there’s someone in their family who has magic and tells them but really all that does is bring our world down to their levels. Honestly you should see all the idiot muggles and mudbloods going around Diagon for the first time, it’s completely undignified! And it’s not like we need them, we’re completely fine, better even, on our own.” Harry found herself once again thinking over whether she actually liked Draco at all as he gave his speech. He seemed completely confident in what he was saying, but was still being friendly to her when as far as she could tell she was exactly the sort of person he didn’t think should be allowed. The way he spoke as if he was simply repeating an overheard adult’s conversation told Harry that this position must be his parents’ one as well, but it was Draco’s father who invited her here and who told her to dress up like a proper wizard and who wanted to speak with her later so there must clearly be something she was missing.”

“And, um, what’s a mudblood?”

“Oh, it’s someone who has magic but all their family are muggles. They come into our world to go to Hogwarts but they don’t know any of our ways or traditions or anything so they make a mockery of it all. Everyone knows that you need good family blood to get good magic anyhow, though there’s enough idiots that defend them that you can’t get away with calling them what they are in public these days. Officially they’re just called muggleborns, and then there are half-bloods who have magical family but also either a muggle or mudblood parent or grandparent. They are a bit better especially if the magic half is a proper family, and then there are purebloods which are the best. The Malfoys are one of the Sacred 28 and we’re in the book of Gold which means we’re one of the oldest and noblest families there is.” Harry wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this. She supposed it made sense that if there are whole families with magic then it might work like genetics and so pureblood families would have stronger magic genes or something, and maybe muggleborns were weaker because they got it through mutations rather than from parents, but she knew little enough that she wouldn’t dare speak her theory out loud let alone form any opinions based on it. The bit about tradition just seemed dumb when anyone can learn a new tradition, and the fact that saying mudblood in public was bad made Harry think that Draco was probably on the extreme end of whatever opinion spectrum this was. Maybe it was like racism, the Malfoys were rich and snobby and very rude to Motty so Harry wouldn’t exactly be surprised. She wasn’t about to say this, though, and risk getting into a fight so soon. Though she would still need to ask something, after all she had no idea why Draco was tolerating her when as far as either of them new she was one of these mudblood muggleborns.

“I see. But why are you talking to me then, if all my family are muggles?” This felt like a risk to say, and Harry wasn’t happy saying it, but if she was to know what role she needed to play to get as much information out of this situation as possible then she needed to know how they saw her. Also, a little pulse of hope was filling her chest that whatever answer he would give would tell her that her parents must have been magical too. And if that were the case... no, she couldn’t think about that. She wouldn’t think about them. They were dead and gone and any time spent wishing for them and thinking about what could have been was a waste and would only hurt her. Draco paused, and then scoffed.

“They can’t be. You must be adopted or something.” Harry thought this was a rather indelicate way of stating things, after all for all he knew she was adopted but didn’t know and telling her this would cause her to completely freak out, but Harry was beginning to get the sense that Draco had no real sense of tact and given his comments had probably never met or had any prolonged conversation with either muggles or muggleborns so simply had no idea how to go about it.

“But why are you sure? If muggleborns exist then why wouldn’t I be one of them?” Draco actually rolled his eyes at this, and Harry thought back over the conversation, convinced she must be missing out on something stupid.

“You’re a Parselmouth. You can’t be a Parselmouth and a mudblood! Only the most ancient and noble of bloodlines get proper gifts and Parseltongue is rarer than practically all of the others, you’d have to be related to Slytherin himself I think, maybe not directly but they say that’s where it came from.” This was... Harry didn’t know what to make of that. It could either be true or not but either way it was not something she could reason or work out so she would have to rely on Draco as a source of information. She was not particularly inclined to trust his judgement especially after the questionable code of judgement he had detailed to her so far, but at the same time the snakes had told her she was rare and if her being a Parselmouth was enough for not only Draco but his father and most likely his mother as well to decide she was worth taking notice of then there was likely some truth to it. And if that were the case, then maybe this Slytherin thing would be a way of working out where she came from and who her family was other than the Dursleys. Thinking of the Dursleys she reminded herself that whatever Draco might think, there was next to no chance she was a pureblood. The Dursleys all moaned about the burden of taking her in enough that she was convinced they never would have done so were they not certain she was related to them, however much they might both wish otherwise. Her aunt and uncle did go on about her parents being freaks though, just like her, so maybe they were both magical and either her mum was a muggleborn or Aunt Petunia was somehow not magical even though her family was, it wasn’t like she had ever met any of them to check.

“I see. If there can be magical people from non-magical families though, is the opposite true as well?”

“The opposite... oh! You mean squibs. Yes there are a few but no one ever talks about them it would be too embarrassing. It’s a sign of weakness in a family to have squibs as it shows the blood has been corrupted. The Malfoys have never had one, nor the Blacks which is my mother’s family line. I’ve heard stories about some of the other families though, not that you’d ever talk about it with them as they’d only deny it. If it is true they would have had to have them obliviated and sent away or killed them or something but if you had a squib in your line I suppose you would be desperate enough to do something like that.” Harry felt rather horrified at the thought that magical people would kill squib relatives just because they couldn’t do magic and was struck by the realisation that these people were all just weird opposite backwards mirror versions of the Dursleys. It was unsettling to think about, especially as knowing that didn’t stop Harry wanting to be a part of this world and spend more time with the Malfoy’s any less, and so Harry shoved the thought down and replaced it with less morally questionable concerns. She had never heard about being obliviated so that was probably a spell or ritual, and given obliterate meant erased or destroyed and it was used to get rid of squibs without killing them it was probably some form of mind wipe or memory modification. That did sound like a possibility for her aunt, especially if being obliviated kept squibs away from the magical world by making them completely certain that magic couldn’t exist and to associate all magical things with freakishness and evil. And, Harry thought, convinced that she was awful for thinking it, she would rather her aunt’s hatred of her was the result of something she had no control over rather than that she really knew Harry’s freakishness was magic and just chose to keep her in the dark. Although that might force her to have some sympathy for her aunt for being a squib and having that done for her as a result, so maybe she was fine with them knowing and lying just to spite her. She would have to start watching them more closely to see which, if either, it was. But that wasn’t something to be done now, so she turned back to Draco.

“Are the Blacks noble and ancient like the Malfoys then?”

“Oh yes, I’ll tell you all about them but we should probably go somewhere else now as we’ll be expected outside soon. Father would kill me if I didn’t show you the portrait gallery and that ties into our conversation anyhow so we’ll go there next.” Harry nodded silently and trailed behind Draco, satisfied that any conversation about her family or potential adopted status had been successfully avoided for the present moment. Draco was rather easy to lead into easier topics so long as they revolved around him bragging or explaining his strange worldview, and even through Harry was sure she would have hated that in any muggle child, everything he spoke about seemed so new and exotic she found herself clinging onto his every word and feeling immeasurably grateful that he enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

“For generations the Black’s were actually the more powerful of the two, and claim to be older though the first uses of both names come from the Middle Ages. They both have French origins as well, though for most of the last few centuries the Malfoys have had more dominance in France while the Blacks had control over here. They, the Blacks I mean, were instrumental in establishing many of the most important wizarding traditions and are still tremendously highly respected by all of the old families even though the last generation or so got caught up in a few things. It’s the tradition among Blacks to name their children after stars and constellations, Draco of course being the Dragon constellation which is why Dragons are my absolute favourite and why mother promises to take me to a reserve before I start at Hogwarts so I actually get to see a real one up close.” Here Draco stopped in front of a large pair of doors and stamped his foot impatiently causing the doors to suddenly open inward, something Harry only took vague note of given she was still reeling from the fact that there were actual live dragons in existence. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend just how much work it must be to keep all these magical things away from muggles, though for muggles to know about them enough to have stories and myths probably meant that that secrecy either wasn’t always the case or wasn’t very effective.

Stepping inside, she looked down the long torchlit corridor and followed Draco’s proud gesturing to see the imposing rows of portraits that lined the walls. Without looking closely one could easily be mistaken for thinking them each the same man, with only slight deviations in hairstyle and shoulder breadth to truly differentiate them. It was all slightly eerie, Harry thought, as she looked to Draco and realised she could now say with almost absolute certainty what he would grow to look like, and wondered if magic had something to do with them all having the same appearance as she was sure that unless they were all marrying their nearly identical sisters it would surely be expected for them to end up with blended features from both parents rather than just an endless line of features passing from father to son to son unto eternity. As if to mimic the paintings, upon entering the room Draco’s posture somehow became even more taught and his face adopted a smug and strict expression that looked rather comical on such a youthful face but that had potential to be quite intimidating once his features grew into it. The eyes boring into her from the portraits certainly felt intimidating, and it took a moment for Harry to realise that their eyes being on her was not that weird trick with painted eyes she had read about but rather the fact that each one somehow had the ability to move. Her skin crawled with the feeling of so many gazes set on her, and she pulled her back up straighter to match theirs and forced her head to remain steady rather than drop her gaze to the floor in embarrassment as was her instinct. Slight murmuring began, too indistinct to decipher, and Draco’s complete lack of reaction to this convinced her that semi-sentience was far to over-abundant in the magical world and she would never again be able to trust that an object was simply an object.

Draco haughtily continued to proclaim his family’s brilliance and superiority over any other bloodline, while Harry stayed silent but attentive as she carefully filed away all the information she could. A few of the portraits that stared down at her seemed on the verge of asking questions, but could apparently find nothing remarkable about her to bring up so remained in disapproving silence as if waiting for her to prove herself before they would acknowledge her existence. Soon enough they had reached the final painting and the doors on the other side and Draco hastily led them through, closing the door and slumping against it with a deep breath as he relaxed out of his excruciatingly stiff mannerisms into the formal and snooty but nonetheless childish visage she had come to associate with him.

“Okay that took longer than I’d planned so we should probably head down to the grounds now, the route leads through the ballroom so the only more public space we’ll be missing that we aren’t set to retire to this evening is the library.” Harry’s breath caught in her throat and she hastily blanked her face to hide the desperate disappointment she momentarily felt at the thought that she was so close to the place where all her questions could be answered but would not be able to go there. It almost felt planned, a way of enticing Harry into either returning in the future or having to rely on the Malfoys to answer her questions. She dismissed the thought, knowing there was no way for any of them to know how much books meant to her and that she had never expected to be left alone for long enough to actually read anything. Still, her legs felt a little more heavily as she dragged them after Draco towards the front of the house. They passed exorbitant room after exorbitant room and Harry marvelled at how quickly she had come to accept this egregious display of wealth and wondered how on earth it all stayed so clean and dust free.

The ballroom was everything she could possibly imagine one to be, glass ceilinged and displaying a far nicer day than the grey clouds she knew were really outside. Their feet echoed on the marbled floor and the mirrored walls made the space that could already easily fit any normally sized house seem even larger. Entering through the front doors they came to the top of one the staircases she had seen when they entered for the first time. Once they were on the top step Draco impatiently stamped his foot as he had done to the doors outside the portrait room and it suddenly began to spiral downwards, causing Harry to start and grab at the bannister for fear of falling. Draco smirked at her loss of decorum but didn’t comment, instead simply leading her back outside and onto a different path to the one they had used to arrive. Soon enough they came to a bandstand bordered by immaculately groomed flowers that Harry thought Petunia might just embrace magic to get her hands on. The absurdity of that thought made her chuckle quietly to herself and Draco looked over curiously. She shook her head a little and Draco let it go easily enough, running up the shallow steps and lounging on a white bench ordained with carved white chrysanthemums and peacocks. Harry followed more slowly but remained standing even as Draco smiled widely and shifted to make space on the bench. She did return the smile, however, and so the brief silence that followed felt contemplative rather than awkward, and would have likely continued longer had they not spun around at the sound of crunching gravel in time to see Lucius arm in arm with another tall, pale, blond figure who Harry guessed with Draco’s mother. As they neared she noted with relief that her elegant features and dark eyes did not resemble her husband and son as much as the rest of her, or else her joking theory in the portrait room that Malfoy men married their nearly identical sisters in an effort to produce clones would start to seem far too possible for comfort.

Standing quickly, Draco once again adopted the rigid pose he seemed to use when around family (or the portraits of it) and led Harry, who had quickly affected the same expression and posture, down the bandstand steps to meet with the two adults. Lucius still seemed somewhat sneering, assessing her keenly and making her skin crawl, but Narcissa shared her gaze equally between the two and soon enough her face blossomed into a smile that Harry found herself immediately entranced by. Being greeted welcomely, even warmly, by any adult other than Mrs Figg (who always gave her the same look she gave her cats so Harry thought that hardly counted) was a depressingly new experience for Harry and as she looked up at her she felt torn between a dangerous longing to trust and a keen awareness that this woman was dangerous and one she should be careful to never let her guard around. She was sure that the woman knew exactly the effect a smile like that could have, and could imagine her practicing it in the mirror the same way Harry herself did to perfect her masks of innocence, confusion, respect and capitulation.

“Ah Draco, and Mr Owens I am glad to see you... settling in. I trust Draco was a fitting host and aided you in becoming better acquainted with the Manor.” Seeing Draco tense slightly on the edge of her eye line she jumped to respond.

“Indeed sir, Draco was kind enough to answer many of the questions I had and the Manor is wondrous.” She injected genuine feeling into that final word, worried as she said it that he would either take it as a trivial summation or an attempt to placate him but in the moment couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. She got a tight smile in response before Lucius turned slightly to gesture towards his wife.

“I can assure you that any of the finer points of the design were the work of my wife. She has been looking forward to making your acquaintance.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you ma’am. Thank you both for allowing me to visit.” Narcissa laughed delightedly in response, and it was light and free and Harry could almost convince herself it was real.

“The pleasure is ours I can assure you,” Narcissa began “and I must insist you call me Narcissa, any friend of my sons needn't concern themselves with the formalities of titles towards me.”

“Yes Ma-I mean Narcissa,” Harry paused for a second, and then remembered the brief conversation in which Harry had been given permission to call Draco by his first name in exchange for Draco using hers. “And please call me Harry.” Narcissa smiled again, and it was a little gentler than before.

“Thank you, Harry, and I am glad to see you fitting in so well. I would not have guessed this was your first time wearing a robe.” Harry felt a sheepish blush rise up at the compliment and was about to convey her thanks for allowing her to borrow them when Lucius stepped forward again and cut off any further pleasantries.

“May I suggest we proceed into the wider lawns, lest we be forced to delay the evening meal. On the way perhaps Draco can inform us of what the two of you conversed about this afternoon, after all Mr. Owens I know little more about you than your name.” Harry hid a grimace at that, acutely aware of the irony of the fact that he didn’t even know that, though the ‘little more’ he did speak of included her being both magical and a Parselmouth which meant he actually knew far more of her secrets than most people. And, given what Draco had told her about the rarity of being a Parselmouth, it was possible that that was a more important piece of information than even she could currently comprehend.

Glancing away from Lucius to hide any possible slip of her face she might have failed to mask, she glanced Draco as he shot up even straighter upon being questioned and gave her a look of mildly veiled panic. He took far longer than she ever would to force his face back into something resembling blank ease, and thinking back to Draco’s earlier questions about her family that she had deflected she realised that the self absorbed boy must have been instructed to ‘get to know’ her or something and he was only now realising how little of that he has actually done. Feeling inexplicably sympathetic to the boy as he failed to meet his father’s stony gaze she jumped in.

“I’m afraid we might have gotten a little distracted with talking more about ourselves, sir, after he discovered we are to be in the same year at Hogwarts.” Both adults turned to face her and so didn’t see Draco’s grateful smile that she met with a momentary quirk of her lip.

“Is that so?” Lucius enquired, slight surprise gracing both elder Malfoys’ features even as Lucius’ quickly turned to one of calculation. “I confess I had assumed you younger, but I suppose we should be thankful it is otherwise. I am sure Draco is grateful to know another of his future classmates, and that there won’t be room for many surprise faces in Slytherin for your year at least.” There was that word Slytherin again, and Harry cursed herself for not enquiring about it to Draco in private. Draco seemed to sense her confusion and his eyes widened comically at the realisation that her save about claiming they had been distracted by talking about Hogwarts would not be readily believed if she lacked such basic knowledge about things like whatever Slytherin House was.

“Oh yes,” Draco began “it is certainly nice to know we will be in the same House, it would be positively awful to get to know you only for you to end up a Hufflepuff.” It seemed that Draco was better at conversational nuance and passing information covertly than she had given him credit for and her respect and liking for the boy grew a little. Hogwarts apparently had at least two Houses, which Harry guessed were like the Houses in muggle boarding schools like Smeltings. The number of stories Vernon had told Dudley about his time in Murdoch House and the victories they had held over the other, apparently lesser, groups of students was frankly sickening and had inspired many of Dudley’s more inventive bullying techniques. How they could be sure that both she and Draco would end up in Slytherin was still a mystery however.

“If I may ask, are Hogwarts Houses chosen by bloodline then?” Lucius looked her over sharply.

“Draco spoke to you of bloodlines?”

“Only in passing,” Harry quickly retracted, unsure why this subject suddenly seemed taboo when Draco had spoken of it so freely. Harsh eyes scrutinised her but she kept her mouth set, knowing whatever she could say might get her into trouble when she didn’t know where the conversation was headed.

“I was just saying he must be related to Slytherin given he’s a Parselmouth.” Draco interjected, and Harry wasn’t sure whether he spoke to save her or simply because he was bored of being left out of the conversation.

“Either way,” Narcissa chimed in, her voice calming, “to answer your question Harry, the four Houses of Hogwarts are sorted based on personality. There is no true way of knowing where anyone will end up before they are tested, but there are some families and lines for which a certain house is a tradition and so there is very little doubt.” Harry thought personality was a rather strange metric and wondered how it was tested, but Draco was speaking once again so she dismissed her pondering for later.

“First there’s Slytherin, for cunning and ambition. That means everyone there will be the best and most powerful. Then there’s Ravenclaw for knowledge and wit, so all of the teacher’s pets. After that is Gryffindor for bravery which is basically the same as stupidity and then Hufflepuff for the leftovers though they say it’s for loyalty so they don’t feel quite so bad.”

“Be kind, Draco” his mother admonished, though her tone was not reprimanding in the slightest. Harry wasn’t sure if any of those descriptions really fit her. She supposed some might see her talent for dissembling as cunning, but that came out of a desire to survive rather than any desire to become powerful or recognised - in fact if anything the opposite was true. It all seemed rather over-simplistic, and Draco’s dismissive description of the other houses convinced her she was not hearing the whole story and should probably hold her judgement. It wasn’t anything to worry about, anyway, if being a Parselmouth guaranteed her a place in Slytherin for whatever indiscernible reason.

By this point their gentle stroll had led them away from the main lawn and into a walled garden filled with neatly pruned flowers and, at various intervals, looming white statues of various people and creatures. If Harry wasn’t so consciously stiff she might have gaped at the various figures arranged in such lifelike poses Harry was immediately reminded of the myth of Medusa and wondered if such a thing were really possible. Everything seemed like it might be, now.

The rest of the garden tour was filled with simple pleasantries and detailed descriptions of the history of the house, garden and the various things that adorned it courtesy of the two elder Malfoys, while Draco interjected with various anecdotes of his time spent there. Every now and again she was gently questioned as to how it all compared to her own home and neighbourhood, along with enquiries about her family that though terrifying to hear were suspiciously easy to avoid. The air was beginning to cool and the sun settling a little lower behind the clouds by the time they returned to the house, and despite all her instincts screaming at her to remain on her guard, the warmth settling beneath her skin that Harry thought was part the feel of magic that permeated the area but even more was the alien feeling of being around people who were actually courteous to her made her want to give in and allow herself to temporarily believe she might one day actually belong. She knew it would be unwise to remain any longer, and that even if she left now her aunt would have probably locked the doors by the time she returned meaning she would be spending the night in the back-garden shed, but since arriving all the Malfoys seemed to have assumed she would be staying for dinner and as impolite as Harry thought it seemed to accept so much from them when she didn’t know what she could give in return, it somehow seemed even more rude to try and get out of it. Though, Harry was self-aware enough to admit to herself, the emptiness of her stomach had not inclined her to think very hard.

She did politely enquire as to whether they were sure they could spare the place setting, but her remarks were met with polite laughter and otherwise ignored, so without further complaint she walked beside Draco as Mr Malfoy led a convoluted path through endless grand rooms until they reached one with deep green walls and a long dark wood table varnished enough that it seemed to multiply the light from the torches and candles that seemed to be the magical alternative to electricity. She was gestured to a seat beside Draco and was comforted to find herself in a position where she could easily view Mrs Malfoy’s plate and so would be able to emulate the table manners she felt sure would be expected of her but that her life thus far had most definitely not prepared her for. She blinked in surprise as the plates appeared before them soon after they all sat, and looked down at the small bowl of pale soup with interest. Forcefully pushing down the immediate desire to grab a hold of her bowl in fear that it might disappear as quickly as it arrived, she focussed on matching the others’ easy grace and, thanks to her acute observations, noticed immediately when Lucius’s attention shifted to rest solely on her. As he opened his mouth to begin speaking, Harry knew immediately that her ease in avoiding questions with Draco and then in the gardens had not gone unnoticed and now would not go unchallenged.

“Your name is Harry Owens, correct?” Lucius began, and Harry’s breath caught in her throat. It was an odd way to begin and if he had found some way to discover her deception then she was in far more danger with this man then she thought.

“I am known as Harry, sir” She replied, afraid to say a complete lie if her sudden fear that magic would somehow allow him to detect them was correct. It would certainly explain why he would question her on that, and seemed far more likely than he somehow finding a way to trace her back to the Dursleys when he clearly did not commonly interact with muggles and had only met her today. The possibility that he could completely read her mind was simply too terrible to contemplate and so she would not consider it unless no other options remained available.

Lucius hummed in response. “You live with your parents?” This question was also surprising, though for a different reason. Hadn’t Draco said he knew she couldn’t since no Parselmouth could be muggleborn?

“No sir, I have other relatives.” Calling the Dursleys relatives made her feel mildly ill, but it was as vague an answer as she thought she could get away with while still answering the question. She didn’t meet his eyes, but on the edge of her vision thought she saw a slight sympathetic smile in Narcissa’s face that helped her keep her face from betraying her inner worry.

“I see, and these relatives you live with clearly are not aware of the existence of magic or the magical community.”

“No sir.” Harry replied, though what Mr Malfoy had just said could hardly be considered a question. It seemed that the purpose of all of these questions was simply to confirm a checklist of what he already believed he knew so as to give grounding to any further enquiries.

“And what of your parents. What relationship do your relatives purport to have to them, and what knowledge do you yourself hold?”

“I know very little sir. Those I live with are related to my mother, but they are not a subject often mentioned.”

“Are they dead?” Draco cut in, causing his mother to cut across him sharply and cause him to blush and send a vaguely apologetic glance in her direction even as his eyes told her he still expected an answer. Harry was neither offended nor hurt at the blunt question, though did wish he hadn’t interrupted as she thought Lucius trying to find a polite way to intimate that answer might have filled up a significant section of the interrogation.

“Yes, but as I have no memories of them I can’t say much more.” She answered Draco’s question to his face, but said the rest to Lucius as it was clear by now who she needed to satisfy with her answers.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Harry” Narcissa said softly, still glancing somewhat pointedly at Draco in continued reprimand of his less than amicable manners.

“Oh yes, sorry,” Draco drawled, and it seemed neither sincere nor mocking but rather disinterested as if all he really cared about was what she was going to say next. She thanked them both in a light enough voice to convey that she was by no means upset by the conversation, which she realised belatedly was a mistake as Lucius took that as an invitation to continue with his questions.

“Your relatives have surely told you a little about them, at least. Their names for instance.” Harry didn’t show it but that statement actually hurt far more than Draco’s, and she considered lying in an effort to cover up her embarrassment but thought creating the fake identities of parents was probably going a little too far, especially considering he would no doubt check and may very well have a way of looking through the names of all witches and wizards and either discovering her lie or else deciding she was muggleborn after all. She supposed she could tell him her father’s sir name was likely Potter as where else would that have come from for her, but there was a reason she had introduced herself with a pseudonym and had no desire to give Lucius any information about her when she didn’t know exactly what that would reveal.

“I’m afraid not sir, as I said they are not a subject often mentioned.” There was silence following this, and Harry felt herself being assessed by three pairs of eyes long enough to be uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure if they believed her, and knew it was unusual to be raised by someone’s relatives but never be told the identity of her parents, but it was in fact the truth so she wasn’t going to add lies and open herself up to yet more questioning.

“I see”, Lucius finally said, “and presumably all you do know about yourself comes from these muggles as well. I wonder...” He began, and then paused long enough for Harry to look up at him.

“Harry is not a very common name in the wizarding world” he stated, and Harry had no idea where he was going to take this. What could possibly be the point of suggesting she didn’t know her own name. “It is a muggle barbarism, in fact, and given the likelihood of your wizarding parentage I find it unlikely it would be the one you were blessed with, at least in that form. The closest wizarding approximation would be Hadrian, I suppose. If you are known to the muggles as Harry then it is likely a bastardisation of that. The Owens aspect we can dismiss completely, it is not a name that carries magic with it.”

“Oh.” Harry began, still unsure of why Lucius would want to change her name but not particularly concerned. He might just not like saying the name Harry if it was so muggle. If anything it would help her differentiate between who she needed to be as Harry Potter and who she could be here. When no one spoke she continued. “I suppose that is possible, and I like Hadrian anyhow.”

Mr Malfoy suddenly seemed somewhat smug, and continued more warmly then before even if still in obviously superior tones. “It is a pleasure then, Hadrian, to reacquaint you with your roots.”

“Thank you sir, I am grateful to you for doing so.”

“That is appreciated Hadrian,” Narcissa smiled, and Harry’s heart panged at the sight of an adult who looked at her neither patronisingly nor with scorn. “Though thanks is hardly necessary. We would not deny you your heritage. Anyhow it appears that Draco views you highly and I would hate to deny him such a friendship.” Draco beamed at this and then turned to his father who’s lip quirked in a measured smile.

“I quite agree, I can see already that this could end up being quite propitious.” Draco did not appear to quite understand what propitious meant but none the less grasped the tone of the sentence and turned to Harry with a smile.

“You’ll visit again then. There’s a lot I’ll have to teach you before we start at Hogwarts, but you’ll learn easy enough and my other friends will hardly believe it when they find out you’re an actual Parselmouth.” A warm bursting light bubbled within Harry at seeing someone, someone her own age no less, seem so genuinely excited at the thought of being her friend. That she had done well enough at this to be invited back only elevated her mood, and even the fact that he was only interested in her because she was a Parselmouth seemed hardly to matter. With a jolt she remembered uneasily that her habit of simply letting people make their assumptions and then going along with them meant it was unlikely things would end well when it inevitably came out that she was actually a girl, but forcing herself back into the moment she allowed herself to simply dwell on the appreciation she felt for being allowed this small moment of happiness.

Narcissa’s cough interrupted Draco’s ramblings. “I don’t think, darling, that your friends should be informed quite yet of Hadrian’s gift.” Turning to face Harry now she continued, “It is one you should be proud of, of course, and something that will win you great respect amongst those with which we associate, but with things of such rarity there is a time and a place and it would not do to be rash.” She spoke kindly, but Harry got the point clearly enough. Being a Parselmouth was clearly rare and for some reason important. It was probably dangerous for her that the Malfoys knew, but at the very least they would keep her ability close to their chest and not risk exposing her to the differing priorities of the other magical families.

“I understand ma’am” She replied seriously. “I won’t tell.”

“You will do it for us though, won’t you?” Draco pleaded. “You hardly said anything to that one yesterday. Will they do anything you say? Is it like controlling them or just agreeing? Is-“ Here Draco was cut off by his father.

“Do not be impertinent Draco, I am sure Hadrian will be happy to demonstrate once our meal is concluded.” Lucius looked at Harry again, his gaze somewhat challenging and Harry nodded even though every instinct the snakes had taught her screamed that she should be keeping her ability as private as possible, even from those that already knew.

Over the course of Harry’s questioning the soup had been finished and magically exchanged for some sort of small roasted bird on a bed of potatoes and then a hot spongy pudding with cream that Harry was convinced was the best thing she had ever tasted. With even the soup starter being more than she was often given to eat by her relatives it was a challenge to consume enough to make it look like she had eaten anything of the other part of the meals, but even with the anxiety the questioning caused her she had taken moments to appreciate just how wonderful the food tasted. She felt more full than she ever had, and soon enough the dessert was finished and the table cleared. Looking up from where her bowl had been, she took in Draco’s excited expression and tensed as Lucius withdrew a wand from his sleeve.

“If I may?” He drawled, to which Harry remained silent. She might have been told she was expected to talk to a snake but was not sure what Lucius intended to do with his wand to bring that about. Maybe things like pulling a rabbit out of a hat could be done with real magic and he was going to pull a snake from somewhere.

“Serpensortia” he intoned, and out of the tip of his wand spiralled a long black snake that landed on the table with an audible thunk. It uncoiled and Draco recoiled back seemingly involuntarily, even as his eyes lit with excitement. The two elder Malfoys remained still and relaxed, as if this sort of thing happened every day.

“Soo cold.” It began. “Who brought me here? Return me to my warm leaves or face my vengeance.” Harry hid a smirk at the serpents dramatics, though she supposed it was fair enough to be on the defensive when you had inexplicably been plucked from your safe home and landed on a table surrounded by staring humans.

“I shall ask for you to be returned, snake, but these people are not ones to be challenged and so I suggest you employ patience.”

“You speak” the snake hissed in astonishment. That it was willing to show surprise told Harry that the snake was prone to be over emotional - by their measures at least - and so would be more compelled by persuasive tactics than rational arguments.

“I do, and that is why you are here. Those around me hope to admire you and wish to request permission to do so on the assurance you will not attack.”

The snake paused in an act of consideration, but it’s excited twist told Harry immediately that it was not about to turn down praise. “They took me most unkindly, but I am well worth admiration so do not doubt the reason. I shall not attack, though if they wish to hold me I must be compensated.”

“You are compensated by the warmth they give, food is hardly necessary.” Harry bargained, not sure how well the Malfoys would respond to her requesting dead mice at the dinner table.

“You are considerate and offer to send me home, Speaker, I shall be held by you without complaint. Those others, though, cannot bargain and I long for food so inform them I will not compromise.”

The snake then promptly slithered into her arms and wound her way around one while Harry sighed. Looking up at the three staring pairs of eyes that were the Malfoys she gave an apologetic half smile half grimace.

“He says he won’t attack and that you can look at and admire him all you like, but if you want to hold him he’d like some food in return. Oh and afterwards he wants to be sent back to his home.” Mrs Malfoy didn’t outwardly react to this, merely continued to emanate serene comfort, while the two males donned eerily similar expressions of suppressed humour and surprise and blinked slowly.

“I’d like to hold it, Father. If Harry says it won’t bite then it won’t.” Now it was Harry’s turn to be surprised, as she tried to replay all of her interactions with Draco and work out what had made him decide her worthy of his trust. Meanwhile Lucius looked down on the snake in indecision before sharply yelling out “Dobby” and causing an elf she hadn’t seen before to crack into existence.

“Fetch some meat. Enough for the snake then bring it to Draco.” The elf disappeared again before returning with what looked like a smaller section of whatever bird they had been eating earlier. Draco took it with a grimace and, despite his earlier excitement, paled a little as Harry hissed comforting words to the snake and handed it over. Harry guided Draco on how to feed it and once that was done the now more sedentary snake curled around his arm contentedly and Draco began to preen with delight.

“See father, I told you I should have a pet snake.”

“Now Draco,” his mother cut in “I doubt you would have such an easy time if it were not for Hadrian persuading it.” Here she smiled at her, and she twitched her mouth in return. Draco pouted.

“Couldn’t Harry just persuade my pet then?”

“Later, Draco, now is not the time to discuss it. Hadrian has done enough for tonight at least and you have yet to thank him.”

“Oh,” Draco started “Thanks, Harry.” He smiled in genuine appreciation and Harry’s heart fluttered at the fact she had been able to please her friend. A moment later Lucius rose and that seemed to signal that the rest of them were expected to as well. With a second incantation Lucius vanished the snake and Harry hoped desperately it was indeed back to his home and not into some random place or worse, nothing at all.

“I suppose you must be getting home then,” Narcissa began, and Harry nodded her agreement.

“Can’t he stay?” Draco explored.

“Not tonight dear. Hadrian has his own family to get to, and no doubt they would be worried if he simply didn’t return home. We’ve kept him late enough as it is.” That was completely untrue but Harry wasn’t about to reveal that so nodded in regretful agreement. Anyway, as much as she loved it here and would exchange it for her own life in an instant based on what she’d seen, there were still far too many unknowns about this world and these people for her to want to give herself over quite so easily.

“You will come over again though, won’t you?” Narcissa continued, and Draco smiled hopefully.

“I would hate to be too much trouble,” She began, but seeing Lucius’ slight sneer quickly continued “but I would of course hate to turn down such a kind invitation if you would actually wish me to return.”

“Of course we do.” Cried Draco, while Narcissa smiled kindly and Lucius looked smug in the same way he had when she had accepted to being called Hadrian.

“Well then would the same time next week suffice? An elf can escort you home now and so will know where to collect you from then.”

“Yes ma’am that would be wonderful, if it’s not too much work for the elves of course.” Three surprised and sneering expressions met that statement and she was forcefully reminded of Motty’s gratitude for her simply acting civil before. The Malfoys clearly did not regard elves well, but Harry wasn’t about to retract what she said and merely waited blankly for someone else to continue the conversation.

“That is their purpose.” Lucius said shortly. “I shall call Motty now as I believe it is she who has your... other attire. What you wear now can of course remain in your possession as you will be needing it again. I shall instruct the elves to set aside similar clothing for you as well for use in the future.” This made Harry acutely uncomfortable. She hated the feeling of being indebted to anyone when she didn’t know exactly how they expected repayment, but he did not look like he would take her objections sympathetically so she remained silent and inflected her head in acknowledgement and mild gratitude.

The farewell pleasantries passed easily enough and Harry found it was becoming easier and easier to emulate the manners and tones Draco used. She was escorted by all three to a side room near the front where Motty was called and from where they were to depart, and the girl and elf spent a moment in silence upon them leaving, during which Harry guessed the elf was ensuring the Malfoys were no longer in earshot.

“You is wanting to be changing back now Master Owens?” The elf squeaked.

“Yes please Motty, and please call me Harry.” The elf’s large eyes once again bulged in a way that still looked strange even if it seemed to be the primary reaction she evoked from the creature.

“O-Okay, Master Harry. I shall be doing it now” and with a click the fine wizarding robes and comfortable, well fitting trousers and shirt disappeared just as Dudley’s familiar, worn, hopelessly oversized jeans and shirt appeared in their place.

“Does yous be wanting to keep the clothes you was wearing before now?” Motty asked, and even as she gazed mournfully at the folded pile in Motty’s hand she shook her head.

“No thank you, Motty. If it’s alright would you be able to keep them here so when I come back I can change like I did just now? It would be suspicious if I wore things like that around muggles.” The elf nodded seriously, and then after covertly glancing around the room whispered back.

“I can be doing that Mater Harry, but is yous sure you is planning to come back?” Harry gulped.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t Motty?”

“I- I is not speaking badly of my Masters. They is being good now and you is wanting to come back, yes?” Harry nodded. “Then you is coming and Motty is looking forward to serving someone so good and kind as Master Harry.” The slight quiver in Harry’s stomach didn’t settle, but without a complete reason not to there was no way Harry was going to give up on this world.

“Thank you Motty. I’ll be back next week.”

“You is be telling me where to go now then, Master Harry, so you can be going home.”

“Oh,” Harry started, and though she still felt uncomfortably full and tired after what had quite possibly been the most informative and mind-bending day of her existence, her instincts, the elf’s vague words of warning about the Malfoys, and the risk that being caught by the Dursley’s or any of their neighbours appearing out of thin air with a strange creature all told her that she should keep the location of the Dursley residence a complete secret. “If you could just take me back to where you picked me up that would be amazing. Thank you for doing this.” The elf’s eyes filled with tears but she thankfully didn’t start jumping or screaming. Instead she gently took Harry’s hand and the two turned away into nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was ok to read! Sorry if lots of it was just repeating information to Harry that you as readers already know, but I want to establish a solid foundation so there’s a more natural progression to Harry’s viewpoint. I can’t say it’s going to become action-packed any time soon but there are some more complications coming up so plot will soon take over.  
> Thanks!


	6. The Trouble with First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa reflects and talks to Lucius about her impressions of Harry over the course of his first visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Lucius’ chapter earlier, this one from Narcissa’s perspective doesn’t do much to progress the plot but should hopefully provide much greater interest into her thought process and also, some of you should be happy to note, introduces a time frame for when Severus is going to enter into the story.
> 
> I am planning for next week’s chapter to be from Draco’s perspective and cover at least the start of Harry’s second visit. After that should be another one from Harry and cover more about his discovery of magic as well as some more Dursley action. 
> 
> Any reviews or suggestions about this would of course be much appreciated!

**Chapter 6 - The Trouble with First Impressions**

_-NMNMNM-_

It was not often that Narcissa met someone and came away knowing less of what to make of them then she had going in. She might leave the ideologies andgrand political plans to her husband - though of course she carefully monitored to ensure he never made too much of a fool of himself - but people were her purview and from Draco’s little friends to the Minister himself she knew what made them tick. This boy, however, seemed as elusive as ever and she was not quite sure whether she was intrigued or unnerved.

Her husband’s theory the night before had been obvious. From the moment Draco had mentioned Parseltongue the fear in Lucius’ eye that he replaced with nervous excitement the second he became aware of it told her that she thought it might be Him. That the Dark Lord might be preparing to return. It was all she could do to hide her shudder. Schemes and ideals and plans for revolution were a perfectly forgivable folly to occupy one’s youth, but the charismatic politician that had convinced the Malfoys and countless other of the most powerful families to rally behind him at the beginning had fractured into little more than a power-crazed and paranoid shadow by the end. He might fall on the right side of the Light-Dark divide, but she did not want another war.

Still, she was not particularly worried about the boy being him. For all he was a Slytherin, the pride and dramatic flare that the Dark Lord possessed was not the sort of thing that would lead him to masquerade in the body of a child, orchestrate a coincidental meeting and then pretend to be muggleborn (or at least muggle-raised) of all things - even if it would gain him entrance to the Manor. And even if he had somehow been reborn that fateful night and lost all memories, without those memories he was hardly the same Dark Lord anyway. No, if he did return he would never want to appear weak to his followers and unless he came to the Manor then performed some feat of magic that had all of them grovelling at his feet, she would rest in relative comfort that such a thing wasn’t going to occur.

That didn’t stop her, of course, from watching from the upper living room window as he and her boys approached the house. That he was dwarfed in drab and frankly repulsive muggle clothes was only further confirmation that this was nothing more than a completely unaware child who possessed a gift and quite possibly held within himself some degree of power that she and Lucius would be well equipped to utilise should they choose to. The idea of using a child for something like that was not something that sat particularly well with her, but then again if extending hospitality and allowing the boy access to the magical world and to their attentions had that effect she hardly thought they were in the wrong for doing so. If his appearance was anything to go by then whatever they were to offer would be more than whatever his previous life had provided him.

She was pleasantly surprised, when she and her husband finally joined them for the garden tour, that the boy looked neither like the feral beast he had previously nor like a child in dress up he couldn’t quite convince himself were real clothes. She did not regularly associate with people who spent any substantial amount of time in the muggle world, of course, but she could remember well enough from her own days at Hogwarts the uncomfortable shifting and adjusting of cloaks from all those who were not yet used to them. The boys were the worst, comparing them to dresses and the like and often adjusting them open in an attempt to give the appearance that they were simply long coats, at least at first. Harry Owens, however stood perfectly still and reasonably refined, his hair still a travesty but the rest of him as neat and measured as she could have hoped. It reassured her that should they allow any form of friendship to develop between him and her son, it seemed Draco would be the one exerting the influence.

He did not exude the confidence and self assurance carefully trained into Draco and the others in their circle, but for someone in such an alien environment who was not only outnumbered and distinctly unprepared but also alone at an age where he had surely been able to rely on whatever adults currently cared for him in every social interaction with adults up to this point, he did a surprisingly good job at hiding his unease. Lucius was not making this any easier for him and was eying him like he did all of the countless poor souls who would approach him with some grand idea that only needed a little investment to get off the ground. In response she, not wanting to alienate him and risk him closing off, injected as much warmth into her smile as she could without loosing her careful air of pride and was privileged in return with a moment of surprise, appreciation and something she could not quite identify on the boy’s face before it shuttered off and returned to the perfectly neutral face that she had never seen one so young manage quite so successfully. That was rather curious as such careful training in mannerisms was not something she believed was popular in the muggle world, meaning it was likely a natural talent and spoke well to his potential for adjusting into the part he might be expected to play should he prove himself to her husband.

Narcissa was also pleased with the boys respectful and softly spoken responses to her husband’s introductions which, although lacking the precise wordings and formalities of any pureblood greetings, were clearly well thought through and showed he was capable on picking up social niceties with surprising ease. Draco flushed with pride as Harry complimented him and the Manor, and Narcissa could see that her son was already growing attached. She supposed this was good, as before this point she was not quite sure whether her son’s interest would lead to affection or jealousy and scorn at the fact he had so easily captured Lucius’ interest when Draco himself so often bemoaned the fact that he was not always the sole object of his father’s attention. Had the boy been the gloating and prideful type the way she had no qualms saying her own son was she was not sure Draco would be quite so accepting of his presence. Only time would tell whether Harry would continue to prove himself interesting enough to satisfy Lucius without Draco coming to see him as a threat or else falling victim to her son’s infamously short attention span. Narcissa had not spent long enough with the boy to judge yet, but from what she had seen she found herself hoping that Draco might find in Harry some genuine loyalty and friendship that would do wonders in relieving Draco of the boredom and bitterness she could see blossoming in him as a result of being an only child who had not yet found himself a true friend. Her own sisters may be out of her reach now, but she was not sure she would have made it through her childhood without them and was regretful that she had not been able to provide Draco with the same type of relationships.

As Lucius drew her into the conversation, she was pleased to see Harry’s continuing niceties and that he had so quickly and, presumably without explicit instruction, picked up on the expectation that first names were an honour to bestow and an exchange that was rarely single-sided. The blush she got as a result of her small compliment about him suiting his robes was the first expression on the boy that truly looked childish, and she quite surprised herself with the feeling of pleasure she got from being able to put it there, even as he shut it off and looked away within moments.

Her son, meanwhile, tensed immediately as Lucius asked him to speak of what he had learned of Harry, and Narcissa knew immediately that Lucius’ explicit instructions from that morning that Draco was to ‘Impress, Interest and Inquire’ about the boy had not been entirely successful. Had she wanted to give the children's game away, she might have laughed at Harry’s hasty save but instead contented herself with the fact that it seemed Harry had an equal potential to become infatuated with Draco as Draco did towards him. This was especially true given the frankly astounding fact that they were supposedly the same age. Harry was a steady head smaller than his son and his figure, even proportionately, slighter and less imposing. His features, from the delicate nose and cheekbones to the strangely luminous and wide eyes that almost seemed to glow in contrast with his dark lashes had a femininity that spoke of pureblood generics - though not any consistent enough characteristics to point her towards a particular family - and though Narcissa could not claim they afforded a look innocence, they certainly seemed young and as he stood near Draco the contract was almost comical. There would be no conceivable benefits to lying, however, when the truth would be so easily discoverable once only one letter arrived, so Narcissa supposed she must believe it until some incontrovertible evidence came along. Them being the same age spoke well of the potential for a friendship with Draco, who would now be less inclined to grow bored with and abandon Harry if he didn’t suddenly display some of the immense power they were all, to differing degrees, expecting. After all, this was someone who would in all likelihood end up sharing his dorm and so it seemed these two were destined to either become as close as brothers or rivals and enemies in equal parts. Draco would not take kindly to them growing apart, not when he took credit for introducing the boy to the magical world and when he held in his arsenal information that would immediately bring upon Harry a scrutiny and level of interest neither were likely prepared for.

Looking at Harry’s face as the conversation continued she would not have been able to deduce any incomprehension as Lucius spoke about Slytherin, but Draco’s flash of panic told her that whatever they had been talking about when alone, the basic characteristics of Hogwarts were not included. She did feel a little proud as Draco managed to seamlessly slip Harry some much needed information in a similar way to Harry’s earlier save, and made another mental tick in favour of them becoming fast friends and confidantes. The first real slip up was mentioning bloodlines when Harry asked how the Hogwarts houses were stored, though of course he had no way of knowing that that would be an issue. In any normal situation it wouldn’t have been, but Draco had not yet learned subtlety nor the art of avoiding offence - the latter undoubtedly the result of his father and, Narcissa feared, a genetic trait he might never outgrow - and so along with being guided on what to ask Draco had also been told to avoid topics that Harry’s muggle upbringing would necessitate careful handling over. Harry did not seem to be offended or uncomfortable around Draco, though, so perhaps things had gone better than they might have feared. Nonetheless, she quickly injected herself into the conversation and guided it into calmer waters, letting her son’s rather comedic description of each Houses’ characteristics wash away any momentary awkwardness.

As the walk continued, she allowed herself some moments to delve deeper than her first impressions which had provided little more than that he was a quiet, polite, oblivious but wary child who could simply be shy and thus open up with time and prodding. The longer they went without Harry showing any signs of relaxing his alert posture and steady face, however, the more Narcissa began to question the naturalness of a child so young having quite so much restraint. Surrounded by the bubbling energy of Draco, and set against the backdrop of the grandeur of theManor, Harry looked far too small, far too delicate, and far too alone. She would have attributed it all to nerves or to simply being overwhelmed, but despite the obvious strangeness of the situation he had been thrust into he did not cast nervous glances around as if seeking support, nor did he look to them with anything other than blank neutrality. His movements and expressions, when they occurred at all, were slight and precise and only sometimes met his eyes. In an adult such control could speak of a strength of character many would be wary of, but in a child the line between being cold and being defensive seemed far too grey to judge. Whatever it was, she knew that the depths of the boy would have to be drawn out with a careful hand and an acute eye, and given it was her husband who planned to question him over dinner she would just have to hope he did not push too far and take advantage of being on the sidelines to learn as much from his reactions as she could.

And learn from his reactions she did, though it did not do much more than confirm that every bit of control she had seen from him thus far ran deep enough to not crack under questioning. He very quickly sensed the change in atmosphere as Lucius prepared himself to talk, and his perfectly polite yet almost completely uninformative answers were of a sort it usually took many years of keeping all manner of secrets to learn. The boy was certainly a future Slytherin was all she could say for sure, no other House appreciated the value of keeping knowledge close to your chest and never giving away information for free. Draco’s blunt question of whether his parents were dead did certainly speed up the questioning process, though his lack of tact pained her and she kept a careful eye on Harry to see the effect this would have. It didn’t have one. Either Harry’s mask was far more refined than even she had given credit or he was remarkably hard to offend. Assuming the latter she began to wonder just what Draco had told Harry of the blood-purity debate as she could no longer trust his lack of reaction when it was brought up to say anything about his true feelings. Regardless, the sympathy she showed even in simply stating the mandatory offering ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ was well rewarded when she saw a flash of gratitude in those startling green eyes that conveyed that while his negative reactions might be dulled, his positive ones remained in full force. Then they returned to the question of family and Narcissa found herself a little unseated by the now familiar unrevealing reply. Did he genuinely just claim to not even know his parents names? The boy could be lying of course, and she would commend his wariness in wanting to keep all information that could trace him out of their grasp, but something stopped her from fully believing it. Up until this point he had hardly been revealing, sure, but since she had met him she had found slight misdirection and prevarication in his answers but never a hint of absolute dishonesty. To be raised by supposed blood-relatives, however, and to not even be told the names of his parents, spoke of a family dynamic she did not know what to make of. She shouldn’t have been surprised, she supposed, that things were complicated, after all there was no way that a Parselmouth growing up without an awareness of magic was going to have a simple past, but the magnitude of the mystery it seemed there might be left her not quite sure of how to proceed.

It seemed, however, that her husband did not have the same reservation. Renaming Harry Hadrian was an obvious ploy from her perspective, but she doubted the child would be able to judge that this was Lucius’ means of accessing the degree to which the child would bend to pressure and potentially control. Harry’s immediate capitulation made Narcissa worry briefly for the child’s safety if he was so willing to follow any commands, though by reminding herself that that was to her benefit as it was they who were considering guiding the child she was able to ease the feeling. Anyhow, she told herself, his reaction was not one that indicated personal uncertainty or fear to disobey but rather complete indifference to the matter of what he was called. Perhaps he agreed with the sentiment that such a muggle name as Harry wasn’t one that should be held onto when in the wizarding world, or perhaps he knew that to disagree would do nothing but make Lucius more testing and oppositional, but either way the answer was one Narcissa knew Lucius would gladly take as a sign of subordination and that Narcissa would, once again, have to reserve judgment on.

By this point, though, she knew she wasn’t just going to let him go. The boy was interesting in a way that made her want to unravel it but also made her relatively sure that whatever she uncovered would only lead to yet more interesting things. If he walked out of their door tonight and did not return, she would wonder about him and would do so for many years to come, and that did not appeal to her at all. So she let the evening wear on, was gratified to see the complete comprehension and sincerity in his eyes when he promised to keep his Gift a secret and even more so when he used his ability to bring one of those rare smiles of genuine excitement to Draco’s face. She would be lying if she said those hissing tones didn’t send a shiver down her spine or make her wonder just what other power might be bubbling under his skin ready to be released, but as the boy accepted his return invitation and went on his way, it was what she had seen of his personality rather than those last few moments with the snake that filled her thoughts and would inform her decisions.

Draco yammered excitedly for the rest of the evening about all the grand plans he had for Harry’s future visits and how sure he was that Harry had been completely impressed with all he had already been shown. For such a quiet child, Harry was strangely alluring to them all. She liked a few of Draco’s young acquaintances, was indifferent to most, but neither described how she felt about Harry. He was simply a presence, an unformed conclusion, and for all he tried to be unassuming she could not help but want to think of nothing else but him until he was all figured out. She wondered passingly if this magnetism was a symptom of his future power the same way all of their society found themselves drawn to either the Dark Lord or to Dumbledore. Magic had focal points and she would not be surprised if Harry - though he was Hadrian now - would grow up to become one. In the meantime she listened to Draco as he spoke about Harry in tones that seemed far more like he was talking about a beloved brother than a recently acquired potential friend, and saw ahead of them many happy days that could be spent bringing Hadrian Owens into the fold.

Her son’s excitement caused an undue number of delays to their evening routine, but eventually he was in bed, still beaming and clutching his stuffed white and silver dragon ‘Eta’, asking once again for a pet snake as he drifted off into dreams. Narcissa quietly stepped out of his room and, after returning to her own and changing from her formal evening wear into a cream nightie with a matching embroidered dressing gown, went to meet her husband who had retired to the living room suite adjoining their bedroom as soon as they had managed to entice Draco into his room. He too was dressed more comfortably and held a half-finished crystal glass of bourbon, with another sitting on the table beside Narcissa’s end of the sofa. She walked over and kissed him gently before sitting down herself, and the two simply looked at each other for a moment before breathing deeply and allowing the oddity of the day to wash over them.

“He is...” Lucius began, but seemed at a loss as to how exactly to proceed.

“Draco certainly seems besotted. He has known Theo and Blaize for years but I don’t think they’ve ever managed to bring a smile quite like that to his face when we promise him a visit.”

“Draco likes what is new. He should be more careful with the feelings he reveals, Hadrian certainly doesn’t have that issue.”

“No I suppose he doesn’t. The way he looked at Draco though, the way they worked together in the conversation in the garden to tell you what you wanted to hear, makes me think we don’t have to worry about Draco’s feelings not being reciprocated.” Lucius hummed in response, but didn’t speak further.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, to be honest,” Narcissa continued. “Bar him coming here and calling upon every snake in a 20 mile radius or demonstrating for us some controlled wandless magic I’m not sure there is anything he could have done that would leave us sure of what opinions to draw of him. We simply don’t know enough.”

“That’s just it though,” Lucius replied intently, leaning forward and forgetting his purposeful posture the way he only did when he had had something to drink. “We hardly know anything. A day with the boy and I couldn’t tell you any more about him than I garnered from yesterday’s pensieve. And for all Draco seems to like him it doesn’t seem like their conversation revealed anything more. If he has a plan I am at a loss as to what to make of it.”

“I don’t think he has a plan, Luce, and I don’t think you think that either.”

“No, I suppose I don’t. He really is just a clueless little boy. But he’s a clueless little boy who left this evening knowing far more about us than we know about him. He should have been desperate to tell us about every burst of accidental magic that would help him prove he belongs in our world. He should have wanted to gain our favour by answering every question we had for him, and even if he didn’t we should have been able to get those answers anyway.”

“He should have been more like an eight year old and less like Severus.”

Lucius laughed at that, his face settling from a frustrated frown into a smirk. “Quite. It would be quite a thing to witness the two of them interrogate each other.”

“Hardly, they both seem quite content with silence so all it would end up being is many hours of blank stares and no sudden movements.”

“Hadrian seems far too measured to glare at least, though I’m not sure if a face that childish could even manage it.”

“And for all they might be equally evasive when it comes to discussing anything personal, at least Hadrian seemed eager enough to please. We might have our jobs cut out for us getting to know him, but then again he probably wouldn’t be with the trouble if he possessed no ability for wariness and justified caution. We’ll need all that from him once we’ve won him over to our side and it being a little over-developed a little sooner than expected is hardly a deal breaker. At the very least I doubt he would be easily swayed once he decides we are worth his loyalty.”

“Yes, we just need to discover what it will take to win it.”

“The first step to that would be to discover what we are winning his loyalty from.”

“Yes, the family. Hardly a difficult task I would imagine.”

“You believe they truly kept him as naive as to his parentage as he claims?”

“What? Oh yes, that. I suppose it’s possible but either way the boy is never going to care about muggles when compared to all that the wizarding world can offer.” Narcissa wasn’t quite sure about the truth of Lucius’ statement here. While the rational decision would of course be to realise that muggles and wizards simply do not mix and then to move on into the circles he was meant to occupy, familial sentimentality was rarely rational. Harry’s coolness in regard to his relatives over dinner did suggest distancing would be possible, but she had no way of currently knowing just how much of that was an act. She didn’t even know if Harry had spoken to them about any of his magical ability or, if he had, what they made of it.

“Loathe as I am to suggest interaction, perhaps observing the muggles would be of use. It would not do for Hadrian to see us get along with their type, but to know how to move forward we need to know where we stand now. I suppose you did tell that elf to take note of wherever she dropped the child off?”

Lucius’ smirk grew at this. “Naturally. I was not about to leave him choosing to return to chance, even if it would be ludicrous for the boy to do otherwise. Motty!”

The elf popped into being, already wringing its hands and staring up with imploring and anxious eyes.

“Master Lucius, I is so very sorry but I was not being able to do what you were asking.”

A dark look crossed Lucius’ face as he growled out to the cowering creature “You failed to do something so simple as note an address. He must have told it to you for you to go there so are you honestly trying to tell me your mind is so inept it could not even hold that information for the length of an evening, less even!”

The elf was whimpering slightly now, eyes wet with an awareness of impending punishment. “It is not being like that Master. Master Owens said I must only be taking him to those same woods he be meeting from-“

“And you allowed that?! And you did not follow to see where he went from there?!”

The elf was pulling at its ears now, but continued hastily nonetheless. “Master Owens was probably not wanting to be seen by muggles doing apparating. And I is trying to follow but I is losing sight and I is not being able to sense or follow anymore and-“

“Enough.” Lucius barked, his face stony. “Take the time to remember the cost of disobeying my specific instructions and generally acting inept, and then tomorrow you are to take another one of you and canvas the area to finish the job you failed to do today. I want an address and I want the names of everyone who resides within it. Understood?”

“Yes Master. I be ironing my fingers to be remembering and then I be looking right away.”

“See to it you are, now get out of my sight.”

The elf disappeared immediately and Lucius turned to her, weariness replacing the fury that had been on his face a moment before.

“Nothing is simple with this boy, is it?”

“It does not seem so,” Narcissa smiled sympathetically, “But if anything about him was normal this wouldn’t be happening at all. It’s not like he’ll be able to disappear from us now even if he wanted to, and I honestly don’t believe he does.”

“You are right of course.” Lucius sighed, yawning and making to stand.

“Of course I am, has there been a single time when I haven’t?”

“I await the day and will hold it over you for all eternity once it comes.” Narcissa scowled good-naturedly, then rose to go with him. He made for the door but then paused and looked back at her. “In all your eternal wisdom, what would you suggest his next visit might entail so that we might ensure he continues to regard our world with the reverence he should and so we might come to understand a little more of the boy himself?”

Narcissa hummed and pondered this for a long moment, proceeding into the bedroom as she did so. Eventually she replied “He clearly recognised the interrogation for what it was, and I doubt he would be any more forthcoming with another one than he was today. If we are to understand what he values perhaps it would be best to let him feel he is guiding the topic. I do believe Draco said they never made it to the library today and while I can’t be sure ancient tomes would interest him at the very least it would provide an opportunity to start assessing his views. There’s no way he won’t have built up an endless stream of questions over the course of the week about everything he has learned today.”

“As always darling your suggestion is perfect, so long as we can persuade Draco to not simply scurry him into the playroom or try and teach him to fly of course.”

“Draco will see it as an opportunity to guide him into the right way of thinking, let him answer enough of Hadrian’s questions and I am sure he will be satisfied. Anyhow I am sure Draco would be attempting to instruct him regardless of our presence so it is likely for the best that we will be there to moderate it.”

“We will have to discuss magical capability of course. I know we aren’t letting Draco touch an ancestral wand until he is nine and it would be foolish to allow Hadrian to prior to that, but at the very least asking about accidental magic could tell us something. We need to know what we are working with.”

“Perhaps, but do not expect too much from a single extra meeting. If he was secretive about his family I doubt he would be forthcoming about his magical ability, especially before he knows the sorts of things that would be expected by his age.”

“I suppose,” Lucius sighed. “You are the expert of slow persuasion so I will defer to you. I do think we should be attempting to encourage some sort of practical display though, other then Parseltongue.”

“I suppose drawing him into our world would be aided by starting to encourage his magic out of the dormancy of childhood. Potions are usually the best for that at this age, though to do that might mean bringing Severus in.”

Lucius had reclined on their bed by then but at that sat up sharply. “You would bring another pair of eyes on him so soon?”

“Not soon, but Severus is hardly one who would wish to draw the boy away. He avoids human interaction enough as it is and is unlikely to care about nor intervene with our intentions.”

“Perhaps you are right. Of all the people to involve going forward I would say he is both the lowest risk and would provide the largest benefit given his talent for... assessing characters.”

“You would Legilimise the boy?”

“Not if the need is not present, but subtle observations might be vital for taking control of the situation.”

“And you think Severus would consent to this? He might have dubious ethical leanings but towards children...” Narcissa actually had no idea what moral lines Severus drew for himself but doubted he would be pleased with them asking him to devote his time and talents to understand the inner workings of an eight year old. Draco was his godson and the man still had a hard enough time knowing how to interact with the boy when not supported by either them or the rigid structure of their bi-weekly potions tutorials.

“Severus is a master of discretion, but anyhow this is only theoretical. Even without legillimency he knows far more about getting information out of people then I would say even your charms allow.”

“You just want to actually get them in a room together and see who relents first.” Narcissa joked. Lucius smirked and replied in equal jest.

“I think you will find I am in fact far more inclined to do so so I might see his face when I ask him to spend yet more of the time he gets away from that infernal school dealing with trying to divine the bizarre thought processes of children.”

“I’ll leave the persuading to you. Though it’s not something even worth considering until we are confident Hadrian has the patience and maturity to manage a potion without it exploding. I fear he might flee the wizarding world forever if he ends up on Severus’ bad side too soon.”

“Alas it seems Severus has a few more weeks of peace.”

“And Harry has a few more weeks to imagine that magic is something of wonder and ease rather than formaldehyde and cauldron scrubbing.”

“Hadrian”

“Yes yes, Hadrian has a few more weeks of innocence.” And with that final remark Narcissa closed off the light and went to bed, though it took far longer than that for her mind to eventually drift from contemplating the small green eyed boy who had fallen into their world.


	7. Being Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry’s second visit to the Manor, in which conversations are had, books are read and a true friendship begins.

**Chapter 7 - Being Best Friends**

- _DMDMDM_ -

Draco had spent the entire week on tenterhooks. Harry’s first visit had been, in his opinion, a resounding success and he had little doubt that the smaller boy was deeply impressed with his home and with him as well. What struck Draco as slightly odd, though, was just how desperate he was for that to indeed be true. He had never really felt like he needed to prove himself to anyone else his age before, after all they had all accepted they were supposed to get along and since they followed all the rules there was never the opportunity to fall short of expectations. Maybe if the Minister had a son he would feel the pressure to be well received, but even then the sort of power his own name wielded was not the sort that could come and go in an election cycle and if he knew anything about the name Malfoy it was that Malfoys should never have to bow down to anyone. But Harry was different. He was completely ignorant of everything that matters, lacked name and connections or even proper clothes. If he had met him in Diagon Alley Draco didn’t think he would have noticed him at all and if he had he would have felt nothing but disgust. Knowing he could speak to snakes changed all that, of course; he would be a fool not to realise that any descendent of Slytherin would likely have untold power that anyone with half a brain would want to tap into. But that wasn’t all there was to it. He might have valued his father’s stern lectures about the importance of allyships rather than friends and the perils of someone of his position allowing themselves to be vulnerable, but his mother’s bedtime stories about adventures and heroism and implicit trust of the sort only the truest of friends could maintain had lodged in his heart and wouldn’t let go. It was terribly Griffindorish, he knew, but friends like that would also be excellent at helping with schemes and securing secrets so he was confident a Slytherin could pull one off as well.

If Draco was truly honest with himself, he supposed it was precisely Harry’s lack of understanding of the things that mattered in their world that made him so compelling. Draco had told him that the Malfoys were important, of course, but without growing up in their society he couldn’t truly understand that yet. The result of this was that Harry was quite possibly the only person alive who he was both allowed to grow close to and who, when Harry did befriend him properly, would be doing so on Draco’s own merits rather than because it was expected. Draco also felt a strange sense of excitement about the prospect of being able to teach Harry everything he knew. They might be in the same year group when it came time to go to school, but Harry really was so much smaller and, if his first visit was anything to go by, was content to let Draco take the lead rather than brashly push his own thoughts into every conversation. The time they had spent together, though at points somewhat awkward and stilted given it was their first proper meeting, had created a dynamic that Draco had often imagined might occur with a little brother. He could only hope his parents would agree, take the boy away from those muggles and give him to Draco. Not that Harry would be like a birthday present, not exactly, but it had been a long time since Draco had asked for a gift he really wanted and he really wanted this.

Draco spent the day leading up to Harry’s second arrival bossing around House Elves. His room needed to be tidied and organised properly, of course, as on the off chance they were dismissed from the Library and told to play he needed to know where exactly everything would be and have the best things most immediately visible. After that he needed to choose his own outfit and, after some consideration, another one for Harry as he didn’t want the boy thinking he was restricted to only one set of clothing. Plus this new one would better match his own clothes and if he wanted to convince his parents that Harry should be allowed to eventually stay he needed to start laying the groundwork by showing that Harry fit in already. His final real bit of preparation was selecting the snacks and refreshments that would be on offer in the part of the library away from the precious tombs around which such messy things were not allowed. Thinking Harry might appreciate something familiar he asked the House Elves what muggles ate so he might find a close wizarding alternative, but their looks of dismayed confusion and stammered apologies about having no idea what muggle food was like had forced him to resort to his own favourites. It wasn’t like anyone disliked strawberry tarts and pumpkin juice, and quite honestly if Harry did he might have to rethink the boys sanity and think carefully about whether they really could be friends.

Sadly all his hard work still left him the better part of an hour to wait and he paced the library in irritation at the failures of clocks, idly noting potentially interesting titles he might mention to Harry when he arrived. _‘If he does arrive’_ whispered a somewhat uneasy voice in the back of his head. It was a thought he had been ignoring for days but it was getting harder and harder to do so as the minutes ticked closer to four. When Harry had left the week before Draco was completely confident that he would return and nothing that had happened since had made him reevaluate his thoughts about the boy’s willingness, but as an only child with little distraction other than his twice-weekly group tutorials at the Greengrass Estate and fortnightly potions lessons with his godfather (no new private tutor had been hired since the last one’s dismissal so Draco had far more time available than he otherwise would), Draco made it his business to know what was going on inside his own home. As such, though he rarely associated with the creatures other than to order them about, the increasing number of sharp words his father was having with their elves - and their increasingly desperate faces and bandaged fingers - was not something he was going to simply ignore. His parents had been infuriatingly evasive about the issue when questioned, however several overheard rants about ‘incompetent cretins not being able to complete so simple a task as locating a muggle dwelling’ had left Draco with few illusions as to what the issue was. Why Harry’s house was so hard to find was a mystery Draco had no greater insights on than anyone else, nor was it a topic he could answer any questions on when his father had eventually come to him and asked if Harry had mentioned anything more about his family, but it did mean that if Harry did not arrive at the pre-arranged meeting place there would be no simple way to remedy the situation. Draco considered asking Harry himself if - no, when - the boy arrived, but in a rare moment of tact he considered that Harry might not take kindly to being stalked by house elves and so he should focus on staying in the boys good graces and leaving any investigations to his father.

He had just settled those thoughts when the library doors spun inwards and his parents entered, escorting Harry who had a more open expression on his face than Draco had ever seen on him. He looked overwhelmed and, if Draco had to put a word on it, hungry for everything the room had to offer, and was so captivated by his surroundings he failed to even notice Draco rushing up to him. Draco touched him on the shoulder and Harry started violently, a look of terror on his face before he saw who it was and flushed slightly.

“Hi Draco, sorry I just... this room...”

“It’s great isn’t it. Ours is one of the largest private collections and also one of the most broad so there’s stuff on pretty much every topic here. You like to read I suppose?” Still staring around Harry started to nod absently, before realising himself and starting to attention again, controlling his features and offering a politely dismissive tone. Draco nearly snorted at the failed effort, and noted his parents were not fooled either. Books were clearly more than a necessary chore or passing interest for Harry, and Draco felt oddly satisfied to finally know something concrete about his character other than that he seemed happy to go along with whatever Draco himself wanted.

“I know it’s important to take studying seriously. Do you like it Draco?”

“Some are interesting, rarely the ones I actually have to study though. My tutors are such bores and someone should really invent a spell to make it so we don’t have to spend our time memorising names and dates and such when there are so many more interesting things to learn about.”

“Now Draco,” his mother chided “you know better than to think all things can be achieved with little effort.” Draco scowled good naturedly.

“I know that. I’m just saying I’d rather use my effort to perfect a barrel roll than learn the names of the different forks! Right Harry?”

“Um, well I don’t know what a barrel roll is -“

“What?! Oh yea of course muggles can’t fly. It’s a trick you can do on your broom and -“

“Quidditch can be discussed later, son, when you are in a place it can be demonstrated.” His father interrupted, and Draco immediately fell silent.

“You got us some refreshments, didn’t you Draco? Why don’t we sit down and Hadrian here can start asking us all the questions he undoubtedly has?” A look of what Draco could only identify as awe flashed in Harry’s eyes and Draco realised that for all Harry was quiet he must have had questions building up in side of him for ages. Draco quickly led them all to the small table and bounced his legs in excitement for his favourite treat as his mother served them all. Draco noticed that Harry didn’t start eating until the rest of them had all taken their first bites and wondered whether muggles had more manners than he had been told or if Harry was just exceptionally polite and knew all that stuff anyway.

“Well Hadrian, I trust you had a pleasant week.” His mother began and Harry’s focus snapped towards her.

“I was mainly excited to come back here, ma’am” Harry replied, and Draco grinned while his mother smiled and father looked exceptionally smug.

“We’re happy to hear, and it’s Narcissa for you. Draco hasn’t stopped talking about you all week and has enough plans for future visits to take you all the way to Hogwarts.”

“Mother,” Draco belatedly interrupted, pale face flushing in embarrassment at his enthusiasm being so openly revealed, though he didn’t protest further when he saw Harry looking at him with a matching blush and a small but genuine looking smile that seemed to Draco to be filled with surprise as much as anything else.

“Lucius and I are glad to see you as well of course. We wondered if your family might insist on meeting us before letting you visit again.”

“Oh, well they don’t mind. They like to instil independence I think.” Harry said calmly, but had gone as still as Draco did when he was trying to behave in front of his father’s business associated.

“An admirable trait, and one you certainly embody well.”

“Did you tell them about us though? And magic and all that?” Draco cut in, trying to imagine how the miscellaneous muggles Draco had imagined as Harry’s family might react to that. Jealousy, probably, and they’d probably have a whole list of questions they’d expect Harry to ask now on their behalf.

“No, well I thought since none of the other nor-muggles I mean, knew about magic then it was because it was a secret and I shouldn’t go telling people who aren’t.”

“Very astute, Hadrian” Lucius replied smoothly. “A difficult feat to maintain, however, when faced with occurrences such as accidental magic. If you have displayed any superior abilities they surely must have suspicions.” A sharp look at his father by his mother followed by his father wincing told Draco that his mother had either kicked him under the table or else stamped on his foot. He guessed his mother had told him not to pry as much as last time, though it was a reasonable question and one Draco wanted to know the answer to himself. Harry, however, had furrowed brows and a slightly cocked head to indicate his confusion over the question.

“And without you even asking we come to our promised conversation,” Narcissa begins through a smile, then looking to her husband continues. “We know this all must be very strange for you, Harry, but we want to help you understand it. We thought it might be best if Lucius and I explain the basics to you here, and then Draco can lead you to books on the topics discussed and whatever else you two might choose to talk about. There might not be time to read any on this visit but there are a few basic guides we’d be happy to have you take with you and of course you’d be welcome any time to continue your studies.” Harry’s face was still much less expressive than anyone else of Draco’s age that he’s ever met, but in their short time together he’d found he had gotten better at reading it and could see the awe and gratitude he couldn’t quite fade from his eyes. He nodded rapidly but didn’t reply immediately, either waiting to see if someone else was going to speak or working out where he could begin.

“Thank you that’s very, I mean I appreciate it. I’d really like to know whatever you are willing to tell me. I don’t think I know enough to actually even know what to ask though.” A flash of what Draco thought must be sympathy but looked more like annoyance crossed his mother’s face, but she continued kindly.

“I suppose that makes sense. Well to start are you more interested in knowing about how magic works or what our world is like?”

“I... think I’d like to learn about how magic works if that’s ok. But if you’d rather—“

“No that’s quite alright. Lucius has mentioned accidental magic already so I suppose that’s a good place to start.” The following explanation was common knowledge to the point it was completely tedious to hear again so Draco took to watching Harry’s reactions instead. He noticed his father was doing the same though he was leaning back casually and only looking at him out of the corner of his eye so he wasn’t sure if Harry realised. The boy’s complete attention was on Narcissa, so undivided Draco thought the sound could cut off and he would still be able to lip read what she was saying. Draco thought it was a bit odd that Harry stayed completely silent throughout, never jumping in with questions or showing any signs he needed anything explained again, but it did get the boring part of the conversation done faster and soon they had moved onto his father explaining the basic structures of Wizarding society and government - at least until his mother cheerfully cut him off when he started getting too granular over Wizengamot seat selection -and then it was Draco’s turn to tell him all the best things he knew about Hogwarts and the sort of things they’d get to study and do.

Harry was getting more and more relaxed as Draco continued to talk and he practically burst with pride when he managed to force a laugh out of the practically mute boy. When the two split off from the adults and rounded a corner of shelves Harry’s shoulders slumped and the sense of tight nerves he had been unconsciously radiating all but evaporated. Draco wondered what his parents could have done to make Harry so cautious around them but was happy enough that it didn’t extend to him that he didn’t give it much thought. Prowling the shelves until he saw something of interest, Draco finally caught sight of ‘Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit’ and pulled it out with a grin.

“You have _got_ to read this. Well, the reading bit isn’t so important but the pictures and drawings they have of all the dragons are the best and there are loads of interesting details about all the different species. The Antipodean Opaleye is my favourite even though there aren’t as many cool stories of them attacking people compared to some of the others. If you like it I have some fiction books about Dragons too but they’re up in my room because the library is more for adulty boring books and the ones we have to study and stuff. Also if you pick a favourite species that’s different from mine then we can get out my miniaturised dragon collection and have them battle and see who wins.”

“Miniaturised dragons? You mean real ones that have been shrunk?!”

“What? No I don’t think the dragons would like that very much and when the charms wore off they’d probably roast whatever kid bought them. They’re just models charmed to be able to walk and fly a bit and I of course have the top of the range ones so they can breathe fire and be commanded to perform basic actions like fighting as well. I raised my set from eggs as well which means they respond to my command but not anyone else’s and are more responsive which is super useful and obliterated Blaize’s last time they fought since he thought he could just buy all the most deadly ones and be done with it.”

“Oh, I see. That sounds cool.”

“Yea, it is. So you’ll read the book?” Harry’s continued quiet and short responses had begun to unnerve Draco a little and he worried he was somehow boring the boy. Though Harry nodded quickly and smiled shyly as Draco passed it over, he wondered how long he would have to go on filling in the gaps in their conversation on Harry’s behalf until he got over this shyness or whatever it was. Hadn’t they agreed last week that they would be friends when they had given each other permission to use first names? Did muggles have some other procedure they had to go through before they started talking properly to each other? If they did Draco hoped Harry would learn pretty quick that he wasn’t about to go and start doing some strange muggle thing just because Harry expected it. He thought it was a bit unfair that Harry might still be holding something back around him when he had been so inviting with the Manor and made it obvious that he wanted them to be friends. For as long as Theo and Blaize had known each other they had been each other’s favourites, Greg and Vince were so interchangeable to everyone there was never any question about them being friends and though the dynamics of the girls group was still largely a mystery to him he was pretty sure that their friendships to each other had never really been in question, so shouldn’t Draco be able to have something like that with Harry if he wanted it? Shaking his head free of his momentary distress he decided to try a little bit harder before asking directly about it, after all Harry had seemed glad to see him and he was sure those few smiles had been real.

“So are there muggle toys like that then? What sort of stuff do you play with?” Draco felt a little slimy admitting any interest in muggle culture, but he was genuinely curious about what sort of things had filled Harry’s life up till now.

“Well, there are models of animals and such and I bet even dragons, but they’re just plastic and don’t move or really do anything other than just sit there. If kids want to play with them they have to hold them and act it out usually” he replied quietly, seeming disinterested in the useless sounding muggle trinkets.

“Weird, isn’t that just really boring? Do you have these non-moving models?”

“Not really, I had a few model soldiers but they got broken and I never played with them much.”

“Soldiers like for battles and things? We have something like that but it’s all the most powerful wizards and if you bring opposing ones too close to each other they start shooting lights at each other like spells. Muggles probably don’t have the imagination for anything like that of course.”

“Why wouldn’t they? Surely it takes much more imagination to play with something that doesn’t do the work for you?” Draco couldn’t tell if Harry was confused or accusatory but either way it caused the conversation to sputter to another halt. They kept walking and looked around at a few more books, but though Draco could tell Harry was interested, in what books exactly he couldn’t say because the boy never commented or stayed looking at one place long enough to draw particular attention to it. His fingers twitched a few times as if they wanted to reach out and grab a book, but he never took one down or even asked about it which Draco was finding increasingly confusing and infuriating.

They reached the end of one of the isles and Draco grabbed at Harry’s wrist to pull him to the next but let go in an instant when Harry winced and pull back, his sleeve riding up enough to reveal a flash of bruised skin around his stick-like risk.

“Where did you get that?” Draco asked, wondering what sort of strange muggle activity the boy was involved in. The only thing Draco ever did that risked causing bruises was flying, as although he might secretly imagine himself climbing trees and exploring muddy banks he knew that there was no way to do it respectably and he was nothing if not respectable. The incident with the peacocks was one he wisely forgot to mention, even in his own internal monologue.

“Nowhere. Nowhere important I mean,” Harry snapped, then calmed and spoke slower. “Sorry I just meant I don’t think you’d be interested, football is probably a muggle thing.”

“Never heard of it, why would anything be called something as silly as football?”

“Dunno, probably just to be descriptive. It’s on teams and you kick the ball with your foot to other players.”

“So the game is named after the ball and the thing that kicks it? Muggle’s do weird things, Quidditch is a way better word and a better game as well. Anything that flies is better than things on the ground.”

“Flying does sound like fun,” Harry replied softly, almost wistfully, and Draco almost replied to offer demanding his father that they allow them out to play when he saw that Harry was already looking away from him and around at the other books. Finally giving in to his impatience he stopped them both and turned to face the smaller boy head-on.

“You know if you like being here you should make that more obvious” Draco snapped. Harry stared, then blinked slowly.

“I do like being here.” Draco snorted derisively, though a small part of him was relieved.

“Of course you do, there’s no reason you wouldn’t. Before us you’ve only known muggles and compared to them I’m sure you’d find even the Weasley’s agreeable.” Harry didn’t answer this, just stood with a face the picture of confusion and Draco was sure that it was completely fake. He huffed.

“I just... don’t you want to be my friend?” His voice trailed off a little and he hated it for sounding so whiny, so unsure. His eyes stayed trained on Harry though even as he wanted to duck his head in embarrassment so he sees the boy’s look of dismay.

“I do Draco, I just...” Now it was Harry’s turn to trail off and Draco was immediately filled with alarm that Harry could have anything to say that might change the fact that he wanted to be his friend. He had had people try and let him down gently enough times to know what it looked like, and also enough to know that the only appropriate response was a scathing one. Even as he puffed up his chest with an insult on the tip of his tongue, however, Harry peered up at him through thick lashes and pink cheeks and continued.

“I just don’t know how to do this, Draco. I never... you’ve been talking about Blaize and you already mentioned Theo and more people besides so you already know how but I don’t have that sort of practice and I don’t want to get it wrong and...” Harry stopped then, face red and hand gesturing as if that could finish his sentence for him before he returned it to his side and absently picked at his sleeves which despite house elf tailoring still seem to be a little too long. Draco was beginning to get what Harry means though, at least what he hopes he meant and the thought had his heart pounding.

“You don’t have practice, having friends you mean?” Harry shrugged. It was hardly well mannered but conveyed the point and Draco could sympathise with not wanting to admit it, after all he had been doing the exact same thing.

“Not even muggles?” Draco said again and Harry glared slightly, the expression shocking Draco who had previously only seen blank, puzzled and a few other polite expressions on his pale and careful face.

“Who else? Or do you just think they don’t count?”

“What? No, I just meant—“ Draco wasn’t actually sure what he did mean, nor if he would count muggles if they weren’t Harry’s only previously available option. “Theo and Blaise, they’re friends with each other most of all, which is hardly fair when I’m the Malfoy but still. And the others, well, they’re the others and hardly best friend material but you—“ Draco stops short at Harry’s completely flabbergasted face. “What?”

“Best friend?”

“Yea... well I mean it’s not like we know each other that well but—“

“Why?”

“Why not?!” Draco felt like he was missing a major part of this conversation, or else had completely misjudged it and overstepped some invisible line he was about to be mocked for. He didn’t like the feeling at all. Harry stared at him for a long moment before seeming to come to a conclusion.

“Is it because I can speak to snakes?” He seemed resigned, ready for the answer but sad it had to come and Draco hastened to deny it.

“What? No. I mean it’s really cool and I wouldn’t believe you were a proper wizard if you hadn’t done that so we wouldn’t be friends but that’s not why.”

“But... I haven’t done anything else.” Draco finally felt he fully understood Harry’s confusion, and it’s the best reason he could have hoped for.

“Well,” he begins, thinking a bit of humour might be necessary to relieve the tension “you’ll just have to try harder then. Being each other’s first and therefore main best friend is a very important job.”

A small smile began to creep onto Harry’s face, but it was still hesitant. “I don’t have magic toys like you do Draco, or a cool house like this. I can’t properly repay you for letting me visit.”

“Good. I have enough of those things anyway and it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun to have you over if what I was showing you wasn’t new to you.” Draco didn’t think he had ever said that he was happy with what he had before, nor even considered that it might be enough. Seeing Harry’s worry about not being able to match him, though, made it instantly feel true and the smile Harry was giving him in return for the statement was the sort that Draco was sure he would do nearly anything to see again. That was the smile of a real friend, and though they might both be new to this they had taken a major step in the right direction and Draco felt sure the rest would be easier. All he had to do now was convince his parents to make Harry stay full time and he would never be bored or lonely again.

The rest of the evening passed much more peacefully, and Harry’s smile became a nearly permanent fixture for all of it, at least until Draco’s parents rejoined them and Harry became stiff and blank once again. He half heartedly tried to say no to a few of the introduction books his parents had enough copies of that they were happy to lend out, but soon enough had them in hand and was promising to keep them safe and return them on his next visit. He might be well mannered, Draco thought, but he needed serious lessons on projecting confidence and class if he was ever going to fit in with them. Eventually, though, the visit drew to a close and though he hid it well, Draco could tell Harry was just as disappointed as he himself was. At least, they were told, they would be having another visit soon and Draco was hasty to insist that they should be given proper time to play and look through all of Draco’s toys. Harry was still holding the book Draco had given him on dragons and promised to read through and pick a few favourites before his next visit so they could have a proper battle, and it was on that note that the two parted ways. Even though Harry was quiet, things suddenly felt emptier without him and a wave of loneliness washed over Draco who unconsciously stepped closed to his mother. She, he noticed, seemed incredibly pleased about something while his father was making the face he always made when he was considering but not yet decided on something and was making efforts to not show any of the indecision he felt. Draco was far too focused on his own feelings, however, to bother questioning theirs and he spent his evening story time with his mother peppering her with anecdotes about his day and listening rapturously as his mother gave him the rare treat of telling him about some of the things she had done with her sisters when they were children. He went to sleep that night with a smile on his face, not even considering how strange it was that his mother seemed to know that the two had decided to be best friends before he had even thought to mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit longer to update than some previous chapters, I struggled a bit with generating a conversation that seemed genuine with who I view the characters to be. I'm still not completely happy with it but have completely plotted out quite a few of the next chapters and really wanted to move on with them rather than risk losing momentum. I hope that I've struck the right balance with Draco coming across as somewhat likeable/sweet (at least as the sort of person Harry would become friends with) while still being hopelessly spoilt and brainwashed by pureblood ideals. If anyone has any ideas to add to this that will always be appreciated.
> 
> Some people reading might think Harry comes across a bit passive in this chapter and a bit less in control, especially given how much she seems to like to be able to be in control of a conversation as we see in chapters from her perspective. My reasoning for this is that, despite all that I think she has grown up way beyond her years thanks to the Dursley's and the influence of snake culture (I have an extensive backstory created in my head about how snakes interact with each other and thus taught her to operate which should hopefully start coming through over the course of the book), this is all still very new to her and her git reaction in any new situation is to stay quiet and reveal as little as possible about herself. Thanks both to that and the Dursley's 'don't ask questions' mantra I think she would be very shy about revealing a particular interest in anything lest they get annoyed with her or use those interests against her. As to her friendship with Draco, neither of them have ever really had the opportunity to be kids or go about getting friends the normal way so I liked making them both completely hopeless at it. Draco simply expressing an interest in her and the Malfoys being remotely nice to her is really throwing her for a loop as there are literally no humans up to this point that she can remember offering her the same curtesy, and her eventual candidness about not knowing how to act in the beginnings of friendships comes from that. I could go into more detail with this but hopefully enough can be intuited from the text and I'm always happy to have more in-depth conversations about it in the comments.
> 
> This was the last chapter that I consider to be purely set up for the situation developing between Harry and the Malfoys. No one else but me might think that what's coming next is a shift but things will be moving at least a bit faster. The next chapter is Harry's perspective and covers the next few visits to the Manor, a growing friendship with Draco and, separately, with Motty, some frankly depressing time with the Dursleys and also a plot Harry develops and enacts (or starts to, we'll see how many pages it ends up covering) to start spending more time in the magical world. The chapter after that is Severus' entrance (though from Lucius' perspective) so for all those waiting for that you can expect it to come soon!
> 
> The next update should hopefully be quicker as I am far more sure about what I want to write. The only reason it won't be is if it ends up being super long (probably the longest chapter yet!) Either way though, I write faster and more every time I see a comment or review so if anyone feels like writing one it will be much appreciated.


	8. Between Two Worlds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dursley’s mess things up for Harry, but Motty and the Malfoys are there for her and promise to be a lot more in the future.

**Chapter 8 - Between Two Worlds**

-HPHPHP-

She should have known it was coming. Actually, she had known it was coming but she should have taken it seriously and come up with a way to not end up in this situation, being pulled by Dudley towards his mother’s car where she stood, arms folded and face pursed in an ugly imitation of a horse with eyes filled with suspicion, malice and disgust. That was a look that said that there was going to be no lenience, that to run would be pointless - not that she could with Dudley crushing her like this - and punishment was inevitable. That wasn’t Harry’s main problem, though. The main problem was that this was Friday and on Fridays she went to the Malfoys and if - when - she failed to meet Motty at the appointed time she had no idea how another time could be arranged. And that was assuming they were even willing to let her visit again after she shunned them like she was about to, after all they were the sort that cared more than made sense about manners and procedure and perceived slights and she was surely failing on every count now.

“In,” Her aunt hissed the second they were close enough that the other parents at the school pick up wouldn’t be able to hear the pure venom in her voice “And don’t you dare get the car dirty, Vernon’s only just had it cleaned.” Harry was well aware of that fact, after all she had been the one to clean it, but fortunately her glower was blocked from view by the car door as Dudley pulled it open and shoved her in with a gleeful chortle. Harry went sprawling into the back seat and nearly cried out when she felt the door slam on the leg she hadn’t pulled in fast enough. Involuntary tears sprung to her eyes and she used her readjusting into position as an excuse to surreptitiously wipe her face with her sleeves. Meanwhile both Dudley and Petunia had entered through their own doors in the front and the car jumped to a start with a lurch, jarring Harry’s leg again as it moved and setting Harry’s internal timer going. Five minutes. Unlike Vernon, Petunia was either paranoid or cautious enough about neighbours that she would never yell in the car and so she had five minutes of glares and tutting and building tension before they arrived at number 4 Privet Drive and the real trouble began. The zebra crossing near the school was, as usual, busy with chatting parents and shrieking children and their car had to stop to allow them past. Harry briefly considered opening the door and making a run for it, but there were too many witnesses and besides the child lock was on the door so the move was likely anticipated anyway. Instead, she watched as Petunia waved at some of the passing pedestrians and called out greetings through a huge and utterly unbelievable smile. Harry ignored her and carried on counting, letting the numbers ground her and distract from her increasingly frantic thoughts. Soon enough, 5 minutes 24 seconds had passed and the car came to a stop. Harry exited without prompting, and did not let herself limp as she walked into the house. The door slammed behind her and she tensed but did not flinch. Aunt Petunia liked a show but she never took things that far, just passed on her displeasure to her husband when it reached high enough levels. Harry hid a sigh at the thought that she had almost definitely reached that level today.

“Why don’t you go and play with some of your video-games Diddums?” Her aunt simpered, pulling her son’s coat off for him and hanging it on the hook.

“No.” Was Dudley’s short response. “I want ice cream.”

“Okay darling whatever you like, I’ll fix you a bowl and you can take it up to your room. You,” She said, turning and morphing instantly from saccharine sweet to vaguely demonic “Wait. Here. Leave and you’re never coming into this house again.” She seemed smug at having Harry cornered, and though she snidely thought that that what she said was more temptation to leave than anything else, Harry knew the importance of a roof over your head and a fixed address so reluctantly conceded that she had. 2 minutes 14 seconds passed until the crunching ice of the freezer, clattering of spoon against ceramic and whines of her cousin ceased and her aunt was before her again.

“Living room. Now.” Was the hissed command, and Harry obeyed, noting with reluctant acceptance that Dudley had seated himself on the stairs, grinning in a way he only did when a new episode of his favourite show was on or a shouting session was about to begin.

“4 weeks. For 4 weeks you disappear every Friday and you think I won’t notice when you try and do it again?” Harry hid a wince. In those stark terms it seemed even more idiotic than she had imagined it being. While she might credit Dudley and Vernon with the combined intelligence of a medium sized boulder, her aunt had an eye for intrigue and, if her uncanny ability to retain and recall gossip was anything to go by, far more going on behind her pinched face then her boring suburban life would suggest.She should never have let a pattern develop, never let her desire to seem normal and not raise suspicion with the Malfoys by proposing an irregular schedule override her sense. Now she was stuck with no idea how to go about finding them again and an aunt asking questions she would sooner die than answer as to answer would mean much the same thing only with a degree more violence. “After everything we do for you! A roof over your head, food from our table, money spent on you when it should be going to Dudders! To our family! And how do you repay us?! By shirking your chores and thinking you can get away with gallivanting around town and bringing shame on this family!” With each pause in her speech her screeching increased by a few notes and by the end it was in an octave she thought would be more suited to being heard by bats than humans. Harry looked down slightly which served the double purpose of making her look contrite and preventing the indignation flooding her eyes from being visible. Biting her bottom lip slightly had much the same effect and she waited patiently for her aunt to finally run out of steam. The pressure she now knew was magic increased within her at the thought that she should feel any gratitude to the Dursleys and she focussed on clamping down on it for fear some might leak out and make everything much worse.

Since being around the Malfoys she had become far more aware of what the magic around and within her felt like, never strong enough to overpower her awareness but definitely enough to know that there was something distinctly different from the normal world. She might have been reserved about Draco when she had first met him, but she was that way with everyone and something had kept her talking to him far longer than usual, something that had grown from some strange unidentifiable draw she hadn’t even consciously acknowledged at the time to the pulsing, erratic bursts of energy she now felt whenever she was around her first best friend. The Manor also had a presence, though it was far less personable and half the time she was sure she was imagining it - this uncertainty largely bolstered by the fact that the edges of number 4 Privet Drive had a similar strange tug on her and the idea of anything abnormal other than her coming anywhere near the Dursley’s perfect neighbourhood was almost more unbelievable than magic existing at all.

One drawback of this, however, was how much more restless her own magic felt now she was constantly aware of it. She was still committed to not releasing any until she was confident she could do it without causing the types of damage her previous outbursts had had, but despite learning more and more about magic thanks to her time with Draco and his parents, she still found herself at a loss for what was going on or how she could prevent it. Draco had told her about a few incidents of ‘accidental magic’ as he called it, but none seemed to really resemble hers or matched the frequency and intensity she had suffered for years, not to mention she couldn’t remember a time when strange things hadn’t occurred around her and Draco had told her avidly about the celebration he had when he was 6 when his first display - obliterating a toy that had offended him - had occurred.She had remained quiet and avoided talking about herself in all these discussions, something she was sure all the Malfoys had noticed and had varying theories about, but were leaving be for now. She wasn’t sure what would happen when they stopped but hoped to have managed to do much more research by the time it happened.

There would be no chance of further research today, however, as she was stuck here being yelled at by her aunt and the only magical books in her cupboard was the one about Hungarian Horntails Draco had insisted she read after she had selected that as her favourite dragon, a children’s retelling of the legend of Salazar Slytherin that the Malfoys had no doubt presented her because of her Parseltongue ability and a tediously boring book about etiquette that Harry had read through three times regardless. She had had access to a few other books over the last few weeks as well, but only a few were replaceable enough to take away from Malfoy Manor and when there there was hardly the time to corner herself away and read when she had to consider common decency and the fact that Draco would hardly appreciate it. The result was that although she was coming to understand far more about the sort of things that came up in everyday conversation with rich pureblood wizards, the bit she really cared about - how magic itself worked and how she could do it - was still largely a mystery to her.

“So what do you have to say for yourself?!” Her aunt’s voice finally cut through her reverie, and Harry gulped knowing that there would be no satisfactory reply.

“Nothing, ma’am. I’m sorry for the disrespect.”

“You really think I’m going to believe that?! You’ve not been sorry for a single one of the evil things you have done to us since you were dropped here. Now you’re going to tell me exactly what you’ve been doing so I can make sure everyone who’s seen you knows your actions are no reflection on us and are in hand and then you are going to complete every chore I give you and do so without a word of complaint! If you finish them in time I might consider letting you go to your cupboard before your uncle gets home, he has a business dinner tonight but if you shirk at all I’ll make sure he knows exactly what you have done!” That wasn’t so bad, Harry thought. Assuming her uncle’s business dinner went well her aunt wouldn’t want to upset his good mood by bringing up her supposed transgressions, and even if it hadn’t her aunt would be hoping it had so would put her in her cupboard before he got home just in case. The only thing that was at all concerning was how long she would end up being in her cupboard, after all it was possible the Malfoys might ask Motty or one of the other elves to stay near the meeting spot for a while but after a few days they would surely give up and then there would be no leads for her to follow.

“I didn’t go anywhere anyone could see me ma’am, just went walking around that path they’re considering making a reserve. You can ask the neighbours I swear they won’t have seen me.”

“Like I’m going to ask them and bring attention to the fact that you think you’re above the rules and already following down the same path as your parents.” The irony of that final statement almost startled a laugh out of Harry and she wondered again just how much her aunt really did know about the sort of people it was likely her parents really were and what she would do if she knew that Harry was indeed going down that path. Nothing good, she knew with enough certainty that she would take nearly any efforts to prevent her guardians from discovering the truth. She hastily turned her face into one of contriteness and nodded solemnly, letting her aunt’s assessing gaze wash over her before she huffed and shoved the list into her hand. Harry nodded her grudging thanks rather than give a verbal response, knowing her aunt thought that, where she was concerned, the mantra ‘children should be seen and not heard’ didn’t go nearly far enough and being neither seen nor heard would be far preferable. Starting to read, she was very careful to conceal a grimace as she looked down at the list which had obviously been made to make her as miserable as possible. Cleaning Dudley’s room was at the top, a job that would be the worst of them all even without Dudley there to interfere with her efforts. After that was the family bathroom - which Dudley’s continually failing aiming practice with the toilet made a close second to the bedroom - and then hoovering the stairs which was not so disgusting but made up for that fact in difficulty given that the hoover weighed more than she did.

That was not as many tasks as she sometimes got, but Harry had long ago snuck to the library, procured a copy of the DSM and diagnosed her aunt with OCD so she knew her aunt’s exacting standards were not going to relent any time soon and she had better start quickly if she was to have a chance at living up to them. Getting past Dudley who was still sitting on the stairs posed a bit of a problem, until he finally caught sight of the list and saw that it would be far more fun for him to let her try and complete her tasks than keep her from them completely. When she walked straight past his bedroom and towards the bathroom he let out a shriek of annoyance, apparently not realising that although it might have been at the top there was no way she was going to start with his room and give him more time to mess it up again once she had her back turned. The major benefit of the bathroom was that it had a lock and, given Dudley’s infamously short attention span, he would likely only bang on the shut door for a few minutes before giving up and forgetting about tormenting her completely. She rushed into the room before he could catch on and get inside too, and made it just in time. Shutting out the external noice she turned and surveyed the damage she would be expected to fix. It was not as bad as it could be, having been cleaned only a few days earlier, but Dudley had gotten muddy the day before during PE and tracks of dirt could be seen at various inconvenient and confusing spots. The toilet itself was something she didn’t want to acknowledge until she had to and so she stated on the end furthest from the door, pulling the variety of bleaches and other odd products frequently advertised on her aunt’s favourite shopping channels from under the sink.

As she worked, she thought with a small chuckle how horrified Draco would be if he was asked to do so much as pick up a sock off the floor let alone handle cleaning an entire bathroom of mess that he didn’t even make. She liked Draco, and having now spent quite a few hours in his presence could say this honestly rather than just through wishful thinking or imaginings about what a best friend would be like, but of all the Malfoys it was definitely Motty’s life that she felt most resembled her existence. Not that she could get away with calling Motty one of the Malfoy’s anywhere other than inside her own head. Being the elf to pick her up and drop her off at the forest each Friday so far, she had gotten to talking a little to Motty and although the elf seemed terrified to exchange anything other than idle pleasantries - the one time she had questioned her ambiguous warning to be careful around the Malfoys her response had been to whimper and stammer until Harry assured her she would never do anything to jeopardise whatever orders Motty was under to not speak badly of her masters - she had been told enough of what life as a house elf was like to know that she effectively was one as well. Even though magical, Harry was in fact pretty sure her aunt would prefer one to someone who had to go to school and would talk back and had to be punished by them rather than doing that herself for every supposed transgression. The matter of punishments did disturb her, especially as the elf’s own actions seemed to be bound somehow by what was expected by her masters which seemed like an awful restriction on free will, and when Harry had seen Motty’s bandaged hands and coaxed the reason out of her she had been so immediately appalled she was ready to confront Lucius Malfoy and demand better treatment for her. That or work out how to free her and stage a rescue mission. Motty had had to beg her not to before she calmed down, and they ended up being later to the Manor than planned because Motty had to take the time to explain to her what it meant to be a house elf and how it all was extremely normal, even if she still kept insisting that ‘you must still be being very careful and is you’s still having enough of your Medimask Master Harry?’. Harry still wasn’t happy, and was not inclined to become any more trusting of either of the elder Malfoys than the very limited degree she already was, but Motty did at least seem content, if not happy, and the idea that her complaints could cause more trouble for her friend kept her silent on the matter. She did make an extra effort to be polite to every elf she encountered, however, rather than copying the actions of the Malfoys as she did for much everything else, and pretended to be oblivious to the odd looks it got her from everyone around. So far only one elf had started bawling and drew attention to it so far - according to Motty this one was called Dobby - but her behaviour had apparently made her the unanimous favourite of all 6 of the Malfoy elves and they all promised to serve her in any way they could to the very best of their abilities. In return for this, Harry had told Motty about muggle cleaning agents and her excitement over the different types had prompted her to promise to bring one the next time they met.

She felt yet another pang of sorrow and guilt as she thought about Motty’s excitement over the lemon-scented bleach and how disappointed she would be when Harry never arrived to give it to her. As soon as she found a way out of this house she vowed to take some with her and work out a way to contact them all and give it over, and with that thought she tucked the unopened bottle from the back of the cupboard under her shirt and secured by her belt and exited the bathroom, running downstairs as quietly as she could and hastily edging open her cupboard door to throw it inside before running upstairs to take the hoover from where it lived beside the boiler. The rest of her jobs passed without much incident - she was right about Dudley getting distracted, he was so immersed in a video game he did nothing but grunt when she came into his room and started the odious task - and even though her aunt made her re-do the stairs for no apparent reason she still finished with enough time that she was confident she would be long forgotten about in her cupboard by the time her uncle got back.

In the gloom of her cupboard she suddenly found herself mourning the loss of distraction from her upset and worry over the whole situation, and immediately set her mind on finding a solution for fear of giving into despair otherwise. She had learnt from Draco that wizards communicated with each other by writing letters and giving them to owls to carry - something she thought was very strange and made her wonder at just how smart owls were to know how to find anyone a letter was addressed to - but the thought of having to find an owl and working out if it was magical (she guessed some must be wild and not inclined to carry letters for random humans) was daunting enough that she would leave that for a last resort. A simpler answer would be to hope that the Malfoys cared about getting in touch with her as much as she did them and would either have a lookout or some way of knowing if she came to their meeting point. Even if there wasn’t someone on watch all the time, it was possible one would come and check every now and again so she could either stay and wait or leave a note for Motty or whoever else to pass on explaining that she got sick and wasn’t allowed to go outside or visit anyone but was now better and would be there on a certain future date. Delving through her school bag she found her homework book and carefully prised out the middle page before using the flat surface of the wall and light shining across from the slits of the door to compose a note.

“Dear Motty, or whoever else gets this,

I, Hadrian (Harry) Owens, am writing this with the hopes that you see it and are willing to pass my message on to the Malfoys.

Dear Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy,

I’m sorry to have caused you all this trouble by not arriving on Friday at 4:00, and for not getting this message to you sooner than I have. I got sick and wasn’t allowed to leave the house, and have only just got well enough to be able to return to the meeting point. I hope you don’t see my absence as a sign of disrespect, and that you would be willing to give me another chance by letting me come again. In the hopes that this note is received I will come to the meeting point at 4:00 this Wednesday. I of course understand you will probably be busy then, but if Motty or one of the house elves is there to suggest a time that works better for you then I will make sure I can be there.

Thank you for reading this,

Hadrian Owens”

The note wasn’t perfect, she knew, and she scowled at her handwriting which was so different from the elegant cursive she had seen Draco use when he wrote out a list of all the things they planned to do, but it got the message across. She really hoped that the Malfoys wouldn’t be angry and offended, and would care enough to check the spot again now she had failed to show up. Rationally she thought they would, after all they were the ones who invited her first and carried on inviting her after and Draco said they were best friends so surely he would care, but they were the only people she knew who cared enough to give her more than a second glance and although she was sure that for the adults this was because they thought her Parseltongue meant there was something important about her, the consideration was still overwhelming. That didn’t stop them being dangerous, though. The magic she felt around Lucius had a habit of setting her teeth on edge, and Narcissa was so good at being kind and oblivious she was positive the woman was observing and intuiting more than the rest of them combined, and if either of them decided she had wronged them she hated to think what would happen. So far they had asked around the topic of her family and her life in the muggle world, but whenever it seemed they were about to insist on names or addresses something always seemed to distract them and they let the subject drop. Her luck could run out at any time, though, and everything would collapse around her and the Malfoys would realise how pathetic she was and how little they had to offer to get her to do whatever they wanted, and the Dursley’s would realise she knew about magic and either throw her out completely or lock her in her cupboard to waste away for the rest of her days. And that wasn’t even considering the fact that the Malfoys might react badly to the fact that alongside every other secret she was keeping she was also concealing her gender.

Going along with being a boy was seeming like an increasingly stupid idea the longer she let it continue, but at the same time she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Originally it had just been an automatic response - always fulfil people’s assumptions so they never suspect anything more - and later rationalised with the fact that it would be harder to trace her back to the Dursleys if they only ever searched for a boy, but being Hadrian Owens had become so much more than that. Even with an entire world and a huge library that surpassed any dream of paradise she had ever had, it was Draco that was the best thing that had come into her life since that first fateful day when she saved him from a snake. She had had Milton for a while - not that she was going to let herself think about him - and had imagined her parents enough times that they almost felt real, but of all the living breathing humans she could actually interact with, Draco was the only one she considered herself anywhere near close to. He was both like every child she had ever wanted to befriend and a completely different being altogether. In lots of ways he had the same flaws as all the children she judged and mocked in her head for being so naive and pigheaded, and was on par with her cousin for being spoiled, but he was also funny and interesting to listen to and, most importantly, cared about getting to know her and so gave her the time to actually get to know him as well. He had a ridiculous number of toys and moaned about work and reading even though he knew she liked it. He boasted about his parents and his wealth and was constantly blackmailing house elves into smuggling him strawberry tarts. He cared more about his appearance than any other child she knew, even Stephany Manuel who had worn leopard print for an entire month and had bejewelled her book bag simply because it was ‘in’. He thought he was good at lying and reading situations because he had had a tutor to instruct him in it (learning that there were actual human tutors for that sort of thing had been a revelation and nearly prompted her to share the details of her own tutelage under the snakes) but was entirely obvious about everything he was attempting. His obsession with dragons was veering on dangerous and she was fairly sure that if he was ever allowed near a dragon enclosure he would find a way to smuggle an egg home with him. He believed what his parents said without question and would do almost anything for their approval, but would also break the rules whenever he thought he might get away with it. Harry wasn’t like that at all, in fact lots of it were things that she thought she would have disliked had she not met Draco. But seeing him smile whenever he tried to explain to her how much better his things were than anyone else’s, watching his eyes glint whenever he found a new dragon fact or got his hands on another tart, watching his lip quirk every time he tried to lie or cheat and his checks flush every time he was discovered; all of those things made him seem so human, so approachable, so enticing, that wanting to change any of it would just be wrong. Harry hated the thought of being dependent on anything or anyone, but she already knew she would not know what to do with herself when she lost Draco’s friendship. And she would lose it. There was no way she could keep it when he wasn’t friends with her but with a boy, even if that boy was all the bits of herself she liked most and wanted to keep. She knew what transgender was, and also knew she wasn’t that as she wouldn’t mind in the slightest being a girl for the rest of her days. Still, the only reason she could see for her gender mattering either way was how it caused people to associate with her and if being a boy meant Draco was her friend then she thought she could easily give up on being Harriet forever. Things were never that simple, though, and being a biological girl wasn’t something she could simply erase or explain away when he inevitably found out. The only thing that made her lie worth it was that she didn’t think Draco would want his first best friend to be a girl, and so even if this was all achingly temporary it was still better than nothing.

With that unhappy resolution still fresh on her mind, she heard the front door open and her uncle’s heavy steps plod their way indoors as he called out to his wife and son, the former of which rushed to attend him. As quickly and quietly as possible she scanned the area to make sure none of her books were visible and her school things were all stuffed inside her bag and hidden away along with her letter, just in case her uncle decided to haul her out, then tucked herself up against the wall away from the door and waited.

“Welcome home my darling! How were the Andersons? Still as slow as ever or did they finally come around to your charm?” Harry had to smother a laugh at the thought that Vernon had any charm to speak of, and once again found herself praying that her mother was nothing like her sister and had a much more realistic worldview and taste in people.

Her uncle grunted, like a pig, in response, then there were the sounds of a coat being wearily and awkwardly shuffled off before he finally recovered his breath enough from the meagre activity to answer. “That wife of his is still as much of a bitch as ever, tried to convince him it wasn’t a proper long term investment or something equally stupid, but another meeting alone with him and I think I’ll have it. With the number of dinners this is taking I might find myself having to double his order just to make it all seem worth it.”

“Who does she think she is getting in the middle of business talk? I’m surprised he’s listening to her at all actually, he must know not to trust the advise of anyone who thinks they can pull of highlights like that without re-dying the mess every week.”

“Quite right Pet, and that restaurant was too fancy to offer proper proper portions so I’m still half starved. What’s left from dinner?”

“Oh you poor man! I can reheat the mash now, it’ll just take a minute. A beer as well I’m guessing? Would you rather it in the kitchen or on the sofa with the telly?”

“Telly of course, ‘The Price is Right’ isn’t gonna watch itself is it?”

“No of course not dear, you just lay back then and I’ll sort out your meal.” Harry’s stomach grumbled as the smell of Vernon’s second dinner began to waft through her grate, reminding her of the delicacies she could have been eating if she was where she was meant to be. It was strange how quickly she had become accustomed to being able to eat on Friday nights, and for a brief flash she wished she was still able to concentrate her power and make the cupboard door lock click open once her relatives had all gone to bed, allowing her access to all the food that they wouldn’t miss the next day. She couldn’t try that, though, not when her magic was angry enough she felt sure it would just as soon blow apart the door as unlock it if she let it out now. Instead she decided to risk delving into her rations once the Dursley’s moved upstairs and pry open the empty paint can on the bottom shelf in the corner to find the collection of protein bars she had liberated from the snack table at her school’s sports day the year before. They were depressingly bland, but better than nothing and she knew she should count herself lucky that her uncle hadn’t asked about her, meaning she would be left alone tonight and quite possible tomorrow as well.

Eventually her aunt and uncle left for their bedroom, finally shutting off the unrelenting noice of canned laughter that had been giving her a headache. She used the sound of the pipes to mask her movement as she quickly found and scoffed her snack before lying back and trying to persuade her over-active brain into sleep. She gave up on that after a few minutes and instead felt around to the side of her mattress for the slit she had made and used to hide whatever books she was currently reading. Her cupboard was almost entirely dark now, but squinting slightly Harry found she could see all the details of the room just fine and the text of ‘Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman’ was just as clear as it ever was during the day. She guessed that seeing in the dark was another passive magical ability she had, like Parseltongue, that was something that always happened to her rather than something she had to do, and therefore worked just as well as it always had even with the lock she had placed onto the rest of her magic. This one, though, she was pretty sure she had developed rather than was born with as she distinctly remembered the desperation she used to feel to escape the looming and endless darkness when she was very young, and how happy she had been when she had suddenly been able to see enough of her environment to distract her from her boredom and pain and increasingly treacherous imagination. It had come along about the same time as she stopped sleeping the normal amount of hours everyone said children were meant to, though Harry was not sure whether this was magic too or just the fact that she needed less sleep because of the cumulative hours she spent nearly completely stationary in her cupboard.

The book she was currently half way through was one in a long list of science books she had decided to root out, thinking that until she had enough time in the Malfoy’s library to discover how magic works she might as well learn about the muggle rules for the universe so she could either discover how they were wrong or else see how magic might possibly be explainable within scientific laws. This one was certainly interesting, though not particularly useful so far in telling her anything about science that she might actually apply to her current situation, but even if she had hated it she knew she was going to finish it even if it was just because every book she read was helping her feel just a little bit less lost when it came to strange physics words and theories. Cosmic strings and dark matter and things smaller than atoms seemed, to Harry, pretty much as strange as magic and with a lot less evidence to support them, but muggles thought they could be true and if Harry had one real fear it was being uninformed. With this in mind, she continued determinedly through her book, pulling the dictionary she had liberated from her school library from the gap between the shelf and one of the walls to check out some of the more obscure words. Evening turned to night which became all encompassing as Harry continued to read, losing herself in stories from a life so very different from her own, and by the time she gave in to sleep and stuffed her reading material away from prying eyes, she had quite effectively quelled her worry and desperation over being stuck here rather than in the magical world she truly belonged to.

******

The rest of the weekend passed in much the same manner, with Harry let out of her cupboard for short periods of semi-supervised and house-based chores then put back in to be forgotten while the real members of the family enjoyed their time together. Dudley had jogged her once, causing her to fall into the forbidden zone near the TV which, every time came too close, short circuited and had to be reset, something had gotten her a few violent shakes from her uncle and quite a bit of yelling, but the matter of where she had been disappearing to on Friday nights for weeks was seemingly forgotten by him and all she had to suffer from that was a few more skipped meals and smaller portions from her aunt who was the one who had really lost out by being forced to complete the chores on her behalf. That wasn’t even as bad as it could have been because Dudley was still smuggling her food in exchange for her completing his homework. It was one of the first schemes she had enacted when she started to take the advise of the snakes and learn how to manipulate the world around her for her survival, and that it still worked today despite Dudley’s idiocy was a testament to how well she had planned. Despite always making sure not to do better than him on tests, it was clear that of the two of them Harry was the smartest. Dudley never did his homework and always tried to make Harry do it, but unlike pretty much anything else where all Dudley would have to do is demand Harry do it and his parents would agree, the Dursleys seemed to honestly believe their son was a genius and should do the work on his own. As a result Dudley would chase and threaten and beat as a means to persuade her, but never take it any further. Of course Dudley would do all that anyway so Harry wasn’t very convinced and after 3 weeks of chasing her around and trying to force her into it he gave up and agreed that he would bring snacks - not in wrappers so there wouldn’t be any evidence - along with the sheet and if he ever told she would never do any work for him again. She was always careful not to score too highly, just enough that his parents and teachers became convinced he was just a bad test taker, and had taken pains to perfect his handwriting, and the work had been routine ever since.

Eventually Monday came around and school allowed her to escape the confines of 4 Privet Drive. Her aunt was eyeing her somewhat suspiciously, as if she thought Harry might try to make another escape attempt and disappear at the end of the day again, but Harry made sure to radiate innocence and no threats were made. There should have been, of course, since Harry had every intention of disappearing and delivering her note to the forest meeting spot, but that her aunt thought she was thoroughly cowed and wouldn’t dare disobey again was to Harry’s advantage so she was hardly going to challenge the notion.

Harry had never particularly liked school, and in fact probably would have described herself as hating it if it wasn’t so much better than the alternative of being at the Dursleys, but since discovering magic it had become so much worse. She had never been allowed friends at school, thanks to Dudley, but whereas before she hardly knew what she was missing, now she had Draco and every moment she had to spend watching her peers yell and chat and play while she stood alone or fled from her cousin’s gang was a painful reminder of how much better her other life was. The lessons had been of some interest before, but she had always learned more from reading by herself and the Malfoy Library promised to teach her so much more than Ms Mallow so every lecture or badly printed sheet just felt like a waste of time. And even if she was content to stay silent in class and never draw attention to herself with questions or good test results, the Malfoys never seemed to mistake her introversion for idiocy and as much as it might be better for her safety if they did, that they wanted her to be clever and do well filled her with a bubbling, giddy warmth that she was quickly becoming addicted to. Draco had told her a little about his tutors and the lessons he had with his pureblood friends and that they studied things like history and etiquette and Latin and, he at least, got to do practical work in potions with his godfather, and since this would be all he needed to go to Hogwarts she felt that all the things she was learning here would be of no use and she would be better learning it all in a few books and then spending her time learning the things she would have to to be a proper wizard. Witch, she meant witch. Hogwarts couldn’t come soon enough and although she still had no idea how she would convince her aunt and uncle not to lock her up to prevent her from going or how she would even begin going about paying for it, she would sooner die than give up her place and she fully intended to be as prepared as any of the magical-raised pureblood who would be in her class.

Eventually the end of the school day drew close and Harry, not wanting to fall into the same trap as last time and be apprehended by Dudley before she even made it out the door, cautiously caught her teacher’s gaze and asked to go to the bathroom. Ms Mallow was not the sort of teacher who would usually give in to such requests so close to the end of the day, but Harry’s near starvation and total deprivation from sunlight over the weekend had given her a deathly pallor that would not only evidence her story of being sick to the Malfoy’s but also made her teacher more willing to excuse her for fear she might otherwise vomit or feint and would have to be dealt with. She waited for her teacher to be distracted by a fight that had broken out between one of the boys and a popular girl everyone said he fancied before darting to the draws at the side of the classroom and pulling free her bag, leaving the room before anyone could notice and realise she had no intention of returning that day. She went to the bathroom and stopped for a moment to swap the muggle plaster on her forehead for the Medimask Motty had gifted her, then forced her fringe down as much as it would go to completely cover the area as a precaution. The time assured her that no one else would be in the bathroom, but she still checked under each stall for feet just to be sure before making her now common window escape and landing by the bins. Rather than go round to the front, however, she went to the recycling bin (by far the least smelly of them) and pulled herself up until she was standing on the rim. From this position she could easily get onto the old wall that surrounded the property and edge her way around to a gap in the wire mesh that topped it that she had scoped out a while before. It was a struggle to get through, and her clothes and hair protested indignantly at what she was attempting, but she was silent and efficient and soon enough had jumped down onto the thankfully abandoned side street and was ready to make her way into the woods.

She walked quickly but also confidently, knowing that in this neighbourhood skulking would be immediately picked up upon by nosy neighbours and reported back to her relatives. Just to be safe she made sure to head in the direction of the potential nature-reserve path she had told her aunt she had been going to, only doubling back once she reached the edge of the houses and was confident she could no longer be seen. The rest of the journey was by this point automatic and it almost came as a surprise that she arrived at the designated spot so quickly. As she walked into the clearing she thought she felt an odd popping sensation as something washed over her, but it was gone as soon as it came and so she dismissed it as a threat. Not seeing Motty or anyone else, she reached into her bag to withdraw her letter but her hand had only just grasped around it when her hopes were realised and her favourite elf popped into existence in front of her.

“You is being here! You is being here! I is being so worried and all us elves is so worried and Master and Mistress Malfoy be worried and Master Draco was being so worried he was angry and then he was crying and then he was - oh! But I should not be saying that for Master Draco would be being embarrassed. But we will all be being happy now you is back! You is coming to visit now, yes?” The elf, Harry observed as she rambled, looked awful and Harry felt immeasurably guilty as she was sure she was the cause. She was frailer than she had ever seen her, and was jumping on the balls of her feet in a way that was far more similar to Dobby’s frantic disposition than anything Motty ever displayed. Her huge eyes were wet but still earnest and shining with hope as she spoke, and her ears drooped looking raw and painful in a way that made Harry certain she didn’t want to know how they had come to be that way.

“I’m sorry Motty. I didn’t mean to worry you, I was sick and I couldn’t leave my house to deliver a message but I wrote a note which I was going to leave here now. I promise this is the first chance I got to come, please don’t be upset.” The moment Harry said the word ‘sick’, Motty’s ears perked and she jumped to attention, her gaze intense enough to be quite formidable.

“You is ill! But you is being out in the cold and you is not even having a proper coat! You is coming back right now and I is making you better! You is getting tea, or hot chocolate! Hot chocolate is good for being ill. And you is getting potions to feel better. And soup! We is having lots of good soups for feeling better. Us elves be worrying this weekend and we be doing lots of nice baking to make us feel better and so there is being lots of nice pastries to eat—“ The elf continued to ramble, seemingly to herself, and Harry felt her eyes going wet. She hadn’t been ill, not really, and she felt awful for lying but the obvious concern and care she was being offered was exactly what Harry most longed for at that moment. She had never had anyone do anything for her when she was sick other than yell at her for risking Dudley and locking her away until she got over it, yet here was someone who she had abandoned for a weekend and apparently worried and she still cared enough to want to look after her. She was hesitant to accept, after all the Malfoys would probably want explanations rather than to let her be coddled, but gratitude overwhelmed her and she realised that Motty was fast becoming someone she thought she could really trust.

“You don’t have to worry about me Motty, I’m better now.” Motty glared in response.

“You is not looking better! You is looking thin and white as soap bubbles and you is needing to be going somewhere warm right now! Master Malfoy and Little Master Draco are away but Mistress Malfoy is waiting and will want to make you well as well so come right now we be going.” Harry had never seen the elf so impassioned before, and she wondered if she would dare disobey had she wanted to. She didn’t, though, so she stepped forward without complaint.

“Okay Motty I’ll come, but first I promised to get you that cleaning thing we talked about so let me just get it—“ She pulled out the bottle and handed it over along with the note which she thought she might as well pass on as well so it could be given to Narcissa while Harry got changed into proper wizarding clothes.

“You is... for me...? OH MASTER HARRY!” The elf wailed and flung herself at her, clutching onto her legs and weeping unashamedly. “You is being sick and you still be thinking of Motty and you be giving me a gift and it is the most wonderful thing and I will treasure it and clean twice as hard and—“

“It’s okay Motty, don’t cry. It’s not just really I just, you’ve been really kind to me and I was going to give it to you on Friday but that didn’t happen and I just thought—“

“You is thinking of us elves! You is being kind and good! Oh how I wish we was being able to find you and look after you when you was being really sick and not just now.”

“I’m... wait, you were trying to find me?”

“Of course we is trying,” Motty said, eyes huge, “You is disappearing and we is not knowing where you were and Master and Mistress Malfoy had not been finding you before but then you didn’t come and...”

“They were trying to find me before?” Motty’s eyes bulged even more and her mouth opened in a strange mixture of shock and despair.

“I is not supposed to be saying. Oh I is breaking my orders! I will have to be ironing my hands again I—“

“NO! Don’t do that Motty! You didn’t tell me anything, I just guessed please don’t punish yourself! I don’t want you to punish yourself for anything and especially nothing to do with me! It’s not right!” Motty had been plucking anxiously at her skin but stopped as Harry pulled the elf’s arms apart and instead looked at her intently.

“You is not telling on me?”

“Of course not, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“My masters would not be thinking that.” She hung her head sadly “But you is a very different sort of wizard Master Harry, you is letting me call you your first name and you is being kind and you is bringing me gifts. All us elves not knowing how to find you but none of us mind even though we is being punished for our failures. We is all wanting to keep your secrets.” Harry felt horror rush through her and her heart catch in her throat.

“You’re being punished for not finding... me? Couldn’t you just follow me after you drop you here.”

“We is! I mean, I is sorry to be following and to be spying but we is obeying orders but it not be working! We is never seeing where you go.” Well that was... weird. She had no doubt that the elves would report to the Malfoys had they truly been able to find her address - the strange form of slavery they were trapped under would likely guarantee it, but she wasn’t trying to keep herself hidden from them and the house was muggle so surely it couldn’t have some sort of wizarding camouflage on it like Draco had told her the Manor did. Maybe it was another weird accidental magical ability. She really had to do some research and work out what was going on with that, but she had more immediate concerns to address first.

“I don’t want you to have to punish yourself on my account Motty, nor any of the other elves either. I... I can take you to my address, if you need, so you can tell them and not get in trouble anymore.” She really didn’t want to do that, in fact she was sure it would spell disaster and bring the two conflicting lives she was trying to maintain crumbling around her. Still, if it could stop Motty and the other house elves from hurting then there wasn’t a choice to be made. She would just have to try and convince the Malfoys that they weren’t worth talking to and hope for the best - a hopelessly optimistic statement she had sworn to herself she would never rely on but felt necessary in this moment. The elf, however, looked horrified and was avidly shaking her head.

“No Master Harry, you will not be doing that and you will not be offering neither. I is only keeping your secrets safe when I not knowing things I have to be telling my masters. They is thinking it is some type of trickery and we is not being in so much trouble, but you is staying safe and we is keeping each other’s secrets.” Harry felt immeasurably guilty for the feeling of relief that washed through her at the thought of being able to continue her facade, but she could tell she was genuine and that there was more at play than she knew, more at play than she was able to question Motty to get the answers about, so she solemnly accepted and vowed to herself to get Motty as many cleaning products as she could get her hands on.

“Alright Motty, but if you need my help I’ll do it. Just ask.” Her torso was suddenly being crushed again by Motty’s bony frame as she was hugged, and although she still flinched involuntarily she quickly melted into it and awkwardly patted the elf’s head in thanks.

“You,” Motty began through sniffs “is helping by coming with me and letting me make you all better. I is not a good elf if I cannot be looking after my witches and wizards and it is an honour to help Master Harry any way I can.”

“Okay then. Thanks” Harry replied thickly, and with a crack the two of them ripped away from the woods and landed in the small side room that Harry used to change into her borrowed wizarding robes. Harry wobbled a little, and thought that perhaps lack of food was really making her sick, but she quickly regained her balance and donned the robe and other clothes folded neatly in the corner while Motty went to retrieve Narcissa and pass on the note explaining her previous absence.

She was just about finished when she heard a knock at the door and hastily exited. In front of her was Narcissa in all her glory, hair shining and silk robes falling around her in waves. It was impossible to stand before her and not feel overshadowed, and Harry found herself shying away from her assessing gaze even as she felt an involuntary pressure to seek out her approval. Looking up through her fringe she saw her face transform from sharply inquisitive to welcoming, and her shoulders slumped in relief. She had arrived at the Manor expecting to have to work hard to keep the anger she felt over the plight of the house elves and the actions of the Malfoy’s off her face, but being in Narcissa’s presence made everything somehow seem smaller and less important, and she waited with baited breath for the woman to pass down her judgement.

“Ah Harry, I’m glad you made it here. Your letter says you were ill?”

“Um, yes ma’am I’m sorry—“

“Nonsense, you do look awfully pale.” Harry suddenly realised that Narcissa might not be that happy to have a supposedly sick and potentially contagious child in her home, and took a hesitant step backwards. Narcissa looked momentarily confused then reached out her arm towards her and she flinched before freezing in place. Narcissa paused as well, before moving her arm more slowly and brushing away Harry’s fringe to check her forehead for a temperature. Harry stayed stiff and hoped desperately that she didn’t feel the more papery texture of the Medimask, but her kindly concerned face didn’t even flicker and soon Harry was unconsciously leaning into the soft warm pressure of her hand.

“Hmm, nothing too bad but I think a pepperup is in order. You look tired as well so why don’t I set you up in an armchair in the library and you can rest with a book, unless you’d rather just sleep?”

“I don’t need to sleep ma’am, but thank you. You don’t have to look after me, I’m really okay and I don’t want to disturb your plans.” The woman’s kindness was just as shocking to Harry as Motty’s had been, and she suddenly found herself wondering how she would react if Harry told her the real reason she hadn’t been able to come and what her weekend had been like. She shoved that thought down just as quickly, after all no one without an obvious motive could be trusted and Narcissa was currently showing nothing but kindness and concern, but that didn’t stop her hoping that Narcissa would ignore her objections and do just what she had said she was going to do.

“Go on into the library. I’ll be there in a moment just let me get the potion.” Narcissa touched her shoulder lightly then walked in the opposite direction from the library, leaving Harry unattended in their house for the first time. She briefly thought that she should take advantage of the situation and go exploring, but it was entirely possible this was some sort of test and even if it wasn’t, the library was where she would most want to explore anyway so she headed there directly. Everything felt a little eerie without Draco’s constant chatter beside her, and the library even larger without company. She could see the armchairs and moved towards them, but didn’t want to sit down without express permission. Without Draco there to guide her she felt completely at a loss as to how to act and that at any moment she might commit some faux pas that would prove to the adults that she wasn’t worthy of being in their presence.

“That chair is meant to be sat on you know” rang Narcissa’s voice from the library entrance and Harry spun around, flushing slightly at the woman’s raised eyebrow and half smile. Ducking her head to hide it, she moved to the chair and sat rigidly on the edge, at attention in case Narcissa changed her mind and asked something else of her. Narcissa glided her way across the room and seated herself opposite, idly waving her wand and contouring a crystal coffee table between them upon which she placed a small bottle filled with a rich red liquid. “Tea, I’d say, and some light refreshments” she called out to the open air and a few moments later a daintily arranged platter appeared beside the potion, emitting an aroma that instantly caused Harry’s stomach to rumble. Harry tensed in mortification but Narcissa merely smiled slightly and gestured towards the red liquid. Warning bells were ringing in her mind as she picked it up, after all she had no idea how to check that this potion was really the one she was meant to take for sickness nor, in fact, what pepperup was supposed to do even if it was indeed that. Still, she had been eating at their table for weeks and could have been slipped all sorts of potions by now so resisting this one was undoubtably entirely pointless. Downing it in one go she let out a gasp as she felt a sudden warmth rush through her before intensifying at her ears and filling them with a loud whistle like wind or a boiling kettle. Raising her hands to her ears she felt steam push against them and looked up at Narcissa in shock only to find her barely hiding her mirth.

“A well documented side effect I assure you. Any remnants of a cold will be gone by now and if you are at all chilled that should disappear shortly as well.” Still thoroughly distracted by the strange sensation in her head, she nodded absently and made a mental note to find muggle medical books and look up what could possibly safely explain a sudden burst of steam from the ears.

“Um, thank you ma’am. I do feel much better.”

“Good, and it’s Narcissa remember. Now the only thing left for you to do is eat your fill here and then I can finally rest assured that you are indeed well.” Harry smiled sheepishly and hesitantly reached out for a sandwich, withdrawing it quickly and starting to nibble on the corner.

“I hope I’m correct in thinking your family doesn’t expect you to return especially early tonight. That tea is a herbal blend that is especially calming and considering how pale you still are despite the pepperup I’d guess you won’t be in any mood to journey outside again for quite a while.”

“No ma— I mean Narcissa, they don’t mind when I return.”

“Hmmm,” Narcissa looked thoughtful, and opened her mouth as if to question further but then seemed to change direction and said something different instead. “That is good for I do not know if Draco would forgive me if I let you leave before he got a chance to see you again. He’s at the Parkinson’s currently but should be home in a little over an hour, and Lucius is due to arrive not long after that.”

‘Is Draco upset with me?” Harry burst out, regretting the words and desperate tone the second the words escaped her lips. Narcissa looked surprised for a moment but then let that be overtaken by sympathy.

“Not at all, at least not once he knows that you were ill. If I know my son at all he will be creating you a potions and dietary regiment and layering you in blankets as soon as he hears.” Lightness filled Harry at the prospect of Draco’s forgiveness and she had to stop herself from laughing at the realisation that what Narcissa was describing Draco would do was nearly identical to Motty’s earlier reaction. She doubted either of them would appreciate the comparison. She nodded to indicate she understood and Narcissa continued. “I confess I am rather pleased to have this opportunity for a one on one conversation. My husband and son are of course sympathetic to your situation, but I think it’s often easy for them to forget just how overwhelming this all must be for you. I can’t say I have experienced anything similar to what you’re going through, but if there’s anything you’re worried about or need to ask it might be easier to ask one rather than all three of us.” Narcissa’s words were not judgemental, and no matter how hard Harry thought through her inflections there was nothing to indicate deception or some illusive larger plan. This was yet more evidence to Harry that Narcissa truly was an expert at the dissembling game and was quite possibly the most dangerous person she had ever met. Lucius might be the head of the family and have a more physically imposing presence - not to mention his magic always prompted a more extreme reaction within her - but this woman was subtle like a knife and Harry was sure it could stab you before you even realised it was there. Milton and the snakes had spoken of people like this, and told her she wasn’t ready to deal with them yet not because she couldn’t keep her secrets close to her chest and her trust even closer, but because they played the same game she did and was impossible not to respect someone who did it so well. Even knowing the danger Harry was in around Narcissa, she still wanted to be around and talk and prove herself to her. She wanted to learn how to perfect her expressions the way she did and how to control the narrative of every conversation without ever seeming like she was dominating it or pressing for control. Harry didn’t think she’d ever be happy living her life as a socialite hiding her intelligence behind dresses and idle gossip the way it seemed Narcissa often did, but there were parts of her that Harry could see her own messy childish characteristics growing and refining into, and for Harry Narcissa marked the first adult that Harry had any desire to learn from or emulate in any way. That was probably the plan, of course, making her dependent and willing to reveal herself in the hopes it would bring her closer in line with whatever their aims were, but that didn’t change a thing. Knowing there was a plot and still wanting to go along and fall into the trap was the ultimate gameplay and recognising it for what it was only intrigued Harry further.

She wasn’t going to make it easy though, so she kept her response sweet and vague and respectful. “Thank you Narcissa I appreciate the offer. It is all quite strange and new but it’s all so wonderful I have hardly had the time to get really overwhelmed. All I really want to do is learn as much as I can and become the best wizard I can be.” She thought about adding on that she also wanted to find out about her family and whether she was indeed from a magical lineage, but that topic opened up the risk of further enquiries about the Dursley’s, causing the Malfoys offence if they thought she was rejecting them or else revealing that she was indeed a muggleborn and causing them all to hate her. She thought they would hate her, at least. Since that first conversation with Draco the topic of blood status had been largely skirted around and she had no real sense of whether that would still be a deal breaker.

“Well we’re all here to help you with that,” Narcissa smiled “And this library is a good first step. Without Draco around you might actually find you have the time to read more than a paragraph into one of these books. Is there anywhere in particular you would like to start?” Harry’s heart leapt at the offer and she felt a strange urge to jump up and down in glee, though she dismissed that as another after effect of the strange warming she felt as a result of the pepperup.

“I... oh anything at all. Something I can’t read anywhere else maybe? It’s fine if not but Draco said that exclusivity is always a mark of quality and—“ she was interrupted by Narcissa’s chuckle.

“Speaking like his father. I despair for the family fortunes if he doesn’t learn some restraint by the time he reaches his majority, but it’s undeniable that he has taste.”

“Maybe he’ll just need a wife to oversee his purchases” she put in, then froze in shock at what she had just said. Had she just tried to tell a joke? Had she just revealed she thought Narcissa hid a lot more behind her mask than she liked people to believe? She was getting far too relaxed and needed to learn some better restraint fast. Looking up, horrified, at Narcissa, she saw the woman frozen in place as well, gazing at Harry for a moment before satisfaction lit in her eyes and she let out another laugh. This one was different from the friendly social laugh that sounded like tea parties and formal introductions, rather it spoke of understanding and a shared perspective and Harry wanted her laugh to sound just like it.

“An astute observation. To recognise the virtues of female influence so quickly you must truly be wise beyond your years. That gives me an idea, in fact, please excuse me for a moment.” Narcissa elegantly stood and went to the shelves, leaving Harry to breathe deeply in relief that things hadn’t gone as badly as they could have gone. A few minutes, and another sandwich, later Narcissa returned and held out a neat black and gold embossed book to her.

“Not quite unique, I would guess that at least every family in the Sacred 28 has a copy, but it is hardly common and I am sure you will get something from it.” Reading the title Harry saw the words ‘First Impressions: a compendium of mannerisms and messages conveyed in a single glance - by Tiffany Sun’ and felt a slightly maniacal smirk twitch at her lips. “Some of the techniques it contains are more subtle and suggestive than is commonly taught, and as such it’s a tradition of sorts to pass from the matriarch to the daughters of a family, but any man who takes this sort of thing seriously knows to read it as well and I think you have the eye for it.”

“Th-thank you” Harry stammered, and didn’t even bother to hide her enthusiasm as she opened the book, after all it wasn’t like Narcissa would believe her if she acted any other way.

“Make sure to drink your tea,” the woman reminded, reclining back on her own chair with a magazine Harry couldn’t quite make out the title of but had a man and a woman holding hands in shimmering silver-black cloaks on the front. Harry nodded and took a sip, instantly feeling her shoulders slump and muscles loosen. She read avidly for around 20 minutes, but with each sip felt her eyelids grow heavier and soon enough had given into sleep completely, the book held protectively over her chest.

******

Harry woke to the sound of heavy stomping and shuffling. Her eyes snapping open she instantly stood but just as quickly felt lightheaded and stumbled back into the chair. She knew where she was, saw immediately that it was Draco opposite her making the noise, but knowing it and believing it were two quite different things. She had never, not since she had first arrived at the Dursleys, slept anywhere but in her cupboard. To sleep was to be vulnerable to attack and anywhere outside of that small enclosed space she couldn’t afford to be vulnerable. It was preposterous to think that she could have allowed her to relax at the Malfoy’s enough that she unwittingly fell asleep, especially not when she had slept a solid 5 hours the night before. She had been feeling tired, ever since she had started drinking that tea, but - oh, the tea! She sad been drugged! The tea had drugged her and she had fallen asleep but what had been done then? It felt like far to obvious a ploy for someone as sophisticated as Narcissa, but it was the only explanation that fit the facts and she felt the sudden urgent need to get away and try and convince herself that none of this was real and she hadn’t let herself fall victim so easily.

“You’re up! Good. Mother said you must be extra susceptible to chamomile, or that and gerbera or something. She told me I wasn’t to wake you but I was allowed to be in here and if I happen to make noise and you happen to wake up that’s hardly my fault.” During Draco’s speech Harry finally felt her heart start to beat it again. The way he had described it made it sound like an accident. More than that, an accident caused by something wrong with her rather than something wrong with the tea. It was possible, she supposed, and far preferable to being drugged. Narcissa had said it was a calming blend so it wasn’t like she hadn’t had warning. She wasn’t convinced, but it made enough sense that she would play along until something happened that made her believe otherwise.

“Course it’s not your fault,” Harry replied through a badly hidden yawn, causing Draco to grin widely. “Sorry I fell asleep, how long was it for?”

“Well I’ve only been back about ten minutes, though I am frightfully cross with mother for not coming to pick me up early once you arrived. I do not care in the slightest about grammar and am committed to not remembering a single thing about it anyway. Before that I think mother said it had been about half an hour, but I couldn’t say for sure. You must be extra tired because you were sick, probably some awful muggle disease. It’s very unfair of them to dare to infect one of us, but I suppose it makes sense when you have to live among them. I’ve told mother we have to have soup as a starter with dinner to make sure you’re well, do you prefer French Onion or Chestnut Cream?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve had either before.”

“What? Never! What sort of soups do muggles eat then? Probably all those weird vegetable ones we leave for the elves. Actually I think you did have onion the first night you came here so I’ll ask for chestnut just so there’s a change.” As Draco finished talking the doors opened and the elder Malfoys entered, turning swiftly towards them and walking forward in greeting. Harry absently tried to pat her hair down, causing Draco to smirk and whisper “it’s a hopeless cause really, I swear it’s doubled in size since last time” which she answered with a scowl but no actual disagreement.

“Ah Hadrian,” Lucius began “we are pleased to have you here once again.”

“Thank you sir, I apologise for not informing you of my inability to attend our last meeting.”

“That is hardly of concern now, though I think it wise to implement measures to prevent such things from happening in the future.” Now, Harry thought. Now he is going to demand she hand over her address and she will have to decide whether she can risk giving it or, rather, risk denying him. He was not a man she thought often got denied anything.

“We have discussed,” Narcissa cut in, “and feel it would be beneficial for us to initiate a bond between you and one of our elves so that you can call them whenever you require and either send messages or come yourself when necessary.” This solution was not one Harry had thought of and it surprised her, but she had to agree it was ideal. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being bonded to a house elf, especially when their bonds with the Malfoy’s seemed to cause them so much pain, but it didn’t sound like ownership but rather shared permission, and given how much her relationship with Motty had grown she thought the elf wouldn’t mind.

“That’s a very kind offer, if it’s alright may I ask what that involves?

“Nothing strenuous, on your part especially. It is designed in part for children who haven’t yet learnt to actively control their magic so all it takes is for us to grant permission for the bond and provide the magic, and for the elf to channel that correctly. If we were actively transferring ownership that would be different, but enough close friends and acquaintances require access to elves that that would hardly be useful.”

“Oh, okay then.” That did sound okay, actually, and with all the elves apparently on her side as much as they were able it could work quite well with getting around the Dursley’s without alerting the Malfoys too much.

“Splendid, we’ll call one up now. Tiffy!” Immediately Harry wanted to object, say she needed Motty rather than an elf she had met no more than once before, but how could she explain to the Malfoys that she had a friendship with an elf in a way that they would approve of? The likely outcome of trying would be them deciding it shouldn’t be encouraged and separating them completely. Then, with a crack, Motty appeared.

“I is sorry masters but Tiffy be doing job with the Abraxans and is not in good state to be in presence of fine lords and ladies, I is here instead.” Harry’s grin was barely hidden, and she waited with bated breath as Narcissa’s eyes narrowed slightly but both adults nonetheless accepted. The moment they and Draco turned from view Motty caught Harry’s eye and winked, and Harry flashed a smile of thanks. Draco came close to her then and whispered in her ear in a way she was positive both parents heard.

“You’ll be able to call her any time and get her to bring you pastries!”

“I think that’s a lot more important to you than to me.”

“Give them to me then!” Harry grinned and went to answer but Lucius interrupted.

"Step forwards now, Hadrian. And you, elf.” The two did so and the man withdrew his wand and levelled it between them. Harry fought back a flinch, instantly uncomfortable with the feeling of a wand being pointed anywhere near her. “Now extend your right arms.” They both did, and with a few muttered words that Harry guessed was Latin but didn’t know for sure Motty started to radiate a strange faded gold glow. The light gradually built and a few strands of light began to extend from Motty’s arm and wrap around Harry’s own, but instead of feeling caught or trapped like she expected all she felt was security and warmth. This was the closest Harry felt she had ever been to pure magic, not some spell or object that did amazing things but was still fixed and closed, but magic itself existing in the world and visible to see. She felt joyous and amazed, and strangely lost when it faded although something, she guessed that was the bond, remained nestled under her skin stopping her feel completely empty.

“Thank you,” she murmured, looking at her still extended arm. She didn’t see the questioning but rather pleased looks Narcissa and Lucius passed to each other over her head as they wondered at why the process seemed to have such an effect on her. Eventually the silence was broken by Motty.

“You is wanting to be eating soon Masters, should I be going to be fixing it.”

‘Yes, go,” Lucius replied shortly and the elf popped away.

“Call it back,” Draco said, still smiling with pride at the fact that there was now yet another thing bringing Harry closer to their family.

“Wha-Why?”

“To check the bond works of course.”

“I can feel that it worked,” This prompted another look of surprise from the Malfoys, which this time Harry caught and quickly backtracked on. “I mean I saw the spell cast, and I just think I should save calling her for the first time for something actually useful.”

“Ugh fine,” Draco grumbled, “Come on then I’m hungry.” Draco turned and headed to the door but Harry looked to Narcissa.

“About the book, I’m sorry I fell asleep it really was very interesting.”

“I’m glad you think so,” She replied, “And you clearly needed sleep if the tea had such a big effect. It will be here the next time you come so not to worry.” Harry flushed slightly at being told she needed sleep like a child, but nodded gratefully anyhow once she knew she would be allowed to finish. Even from just skimming the contents page she knew there was a lot of information she would put to good use.

They walked down to the dining hall as a group and Draco told her in great detail all about his day at the Parkinson’s and the argument Blaize had gotten in with the tutor over the effect of translation on spells and rituals. That was not what they had been learning, but once the other children realised discussing it would distract from the congregations they were meant to be completing they very quickly learnt to form opinions on the matter. Harry asked Draco about the conclusion of the debate, thinking it really was a very interesting topic, but apparently Draco had by that point completely lost interest and instead tried to start a fight between Vince and Greg. The conversation about what Draco was learning continued for the first part of the meal, then moved onto Lucius detailing a minor scandal revolving around Minister Millicent Bagnold‘s handling of the muggle Prime Minister. The longer the man talked the more forcefully Harry was reminder that this was one of the most politically powerful people in the country and that, it seemed, it would take him a matter of weeks if not days to de-seat Margaret Thatcher should he choose to do so. Harry resolved to start reading the newspaper and politics journals more regularly so she could keep up with the conversation. At the same time, however, the relaxed discussion and occasional joke made the whole situation seem so very familial, so normal, and she wanted more than anything to belong. When she was younger she had longed for her aunt and uncle to include her in their dinner time ritual and let her be part of the family in that small way, but all they ever talked about were boring drill contracts and boring gossip and boring comments on Dudley’s never-ending beauty and charm. In this family they spoke about things that actually mattered and would actually impact the world. She felt like she was getting smarter being around them and even if the Dursleys suddenly changed their minds and chose to accept her (fat chance of that but still) she wasn’t sure she’d be ready to give up even this small glimpse into this sort of family.

As the meal drew to a close, so too did the discussion and the faces of the adults once again turned to her. She gulped, knowing that look by now and knowing she was about to be questioned. Pulling herself up straighter and keeping her face neutral, she waited for them to begin.

“Over this weekend, Hadrian,” Narcissa began, looking briefly to her husband who nodded slightly, “we were thinking about you and the time you spend here with us.” Dread filled with Harry as she instantly jumped to the conclusion she feared most, they had had enough and wanted to send her away. Not trusting herself to speak she stayed silent. “And while you’re adjusting remarkably well to the world in which you belong, with only a few hours each week there’s only so much you can do.” Harry swallowed again, keeping the fear off her face even as she wanted to beg that she was learning fast and was trying her hardest not to be a bad influence on Draco and be worthy of being his friend in their eyes. Something confused her, though, which was that Draco was looking at her too and his face was one of excitement rather than despair. He said he wanted to be her friend, so surely he wouldn’t be so happy that that was about to be over. “You already have a pass in the wards, and now you can call an elf to get you here we think you should have a greater opportunity to catch up to where Draco is, to where you ought to be.” Draco looked smug and Narcissa was smiling, but Harry still couldn’t catch up to what they meant. Or rather, she understood the sentence, but couldn’t believe that they had spent this much time around her already and were still willing to offer more. Logically she knew that everything they had done and said around her to this point did suggest exactly that, but that their wishes could align so exactly with hers felt like a miracle.

“We understand that you currently attend _muggle_ school” Lucius took over, spitting the word muggle like it was a curse “but such places are no doubt completely ill equipped to educate a wizard in the things that matter. If you are to learn our ways you need to commit yourself to it, and you can’t do that when for all intents and purposes you still are one of them.” Harry’s face was still frozen, this time in shock rather than fear, but Narcissa didn’t appear to notice the change and jumped in quickly.

“Of course we are not suggesting you leave your family, we would never ask anyone to separate themselves from their blood,” Lucius scoffed at his wife’s words, but whether that was because he was not opposed to separating blood or because he did not believe she could share blood with muggles Harry was not sure. She was more inclined to agree with Lucius either way anyhow, after all both they and her would jump at any chance to reject each other as family “but an education that doesn’t fit your needs can only harm you and we think you should consider at least reducing your enrolment so that you might spend more time learning from our library and from us. We would be happy to communicate with your family of course—”

“No!” Harry jumped in, excitement overcoming her manners, “they’ll understand, if I ask them. And if you truly mean it I’d love to accept. I promise to work hard and take care of your books and—“

“Does this mean I get to tell my friends about him now?” Draco asked, “will he be coming to my lessons?”

“Not yet, dear. Harry has a lot to do to catch up first and even then there are still some investigations into his lineage that must be completed before we risk exposing him to the masses.”

“What about potions? They’re done here and if Harry is around when Severus comes then he’ll know anyway.”

“If Hadrian likes we were thinking that might be a good chance to get some practical experience. Severus is the Potions Master of Hogwarts, Harry, as well as Draco’s godfather and to learn from him will certainly set you ahead of your peers by the time you begin formal schooling.”

Harry looked up at Narcissa, gratitude filling her eyes as she nodded. “If he, and Draco, don’t mind, I would love to learn.”

“YES!” Draco almost yelled “The work he sets is always so hard and it will be so much fun to do it with someone else as well. He’s the head of Slytherin too by the way and he’ll be so impressed you’re a Parselmouth... wait, we won’t be telling him that will we?”

“Not yet at least,” Narcissa agreed, looking at Harry slightly regretfully. “Hadrian needs the time to make an impression with his abilities and insights rather than with a singular talent, and skills are always more valuable when not common knowledge.” Both children nodded agreeably, though Draco did have a bit of a frowns still, and the conversation moved on to planning. The adults proposed that Harry start the next week so there was time for her to arrange with her school, and then come from 10:00 until 3:00 Mondays through Wednesdays and then 2:00 until after dinner on Thursdays and Fridays with every other Thursday being their practical potions lesson with Severus. From the way they spoke it sounded like they assumed this could fit around muggle education and that she would still be able to partially attend, but to tell them otherwise risked either making them suggest fewer hours or otherwise that she was taking advantage of their kindness and pushing for more so she stayed silent. Draco was not very happy, and made sure they all knew it, that his lessons with the Parkinson’s meant he would hardly see Harry at all on Mondays or Tuesdays, but since his parents reminded him that Harry would have to be working and that they wouldn’t allow him to be a distraction anyway he agreed. He did insist, however, that Harry be allowed over on Saturdays for non-academic purposes if their whole week was taken up by work, and when his parents agreed Harry felt so delirious with joy at being wanted she started thanking them profusely and sharing intense looks of delight with Draco.

By the time she had to go all four of them were more jovial than they had ever been in the presence of all the others, even Lucius a little less sharp and domineering as he saw the genuine joy on his son’s face. Harry knew she was being improper, that she was putting herself at risk by allowing herself to get this close, but the thought of having friends, having knowledge and of being wanted, anywhere, by anyone, was so new that she didn’t think she could act any other way. As she left with Motty she told the elf what she had been offered and, though the elf did look nervous, Harry’s obvious excitement stopped her from providing any more warnings.

It was only when Harry bid farewell to Motty and started walking home that rationality began to take over. She had just agreed to leave muggle school. She had said her relatives wouldn’t mind, as of course they wouldn’t care if she stopped learning at the age of 8, but they would care about where she was going and would not be happy that she couldn’t answer. Even if they would accept her answer, they would never let her do it because they were opposed to anything that made her happy. She was not above skipping school, but with her cousin in her class to note her absence that would never work. She needed to be taken out of school by her relatives, but then neither be kept at home or sent somewhere else and whatever excuse she gave needed to cover two evenings a week as well as the odd Saturday. It sounded like a ridiculous thing to try and achieve, but most of Harry’s life was ridiculous and there was no way she was going to let this hurdle stop her.

The first step to getting her way would be to pick a target. This was obviously her aunt. Of her two guardians she was the most receptive to reason and the least likely to lash out with her fists, and while her plan would no doubt end up leaving her at his mercy anyway she would actually take the time to fall into her trap. Next she needed to identify her weak-point, which was another easy answer as her aunt, as far as she could tell, cared about nothing except cleaning, gossiping, seeming normal and her disaster of a son. The gossip and seeming normal triggers were bad ideas as that would always push her towards maintaining the status quo, but the cleaning and Dudley were not mutually exclusive and both could work quite well. She could promise to clean more in return, but she honestly wasn’t sure if there were enough hours in the day to do more cleaning and still go to the Malfoys, and even if she did that that wouldn’t answer the question of where she was going. That left Dudley. She cared about making him happy, and she cared about him doing well... and then it came to her. She needed to convince her aunt that being in the same class as Dudley was somehow harming him. This would get her in a whole world of trouble, but would also prompt immediate action which was what she needed. After that she would need her aunt to think she was being sent somewhere else, probably a different school, but for that not to be the case. It was perfect, the only thing left was how to deliver the message. Her aunt would never believe a word coming out of her mouth and she was pretty sure her cousin actually liked having her there as constant target practice, but a seemingly official source was never questioned. The note had been a good plan for explaining her situation to the Malfoys, and could be used for this as well. All she needed to do was gain access to the school printer and letterhead and compose a note from Ms Mallow saying she was concerned Dudley wasn’t ‘fulfilling his potential’ or something with her as a distraction, and that there was another school nearby for troubled children that could only be attended on personal recommendation that she was willing to give. All her aunt would have to do was reply to the letter in the affirmative and she could begin the next week. There were risks, of course, and lots of ways to be discovered, but she knew her aunt well and knew that panic for her son would get her to do nearly anything, and her apathy for Harry would mean she wouldn’t care to check on the made up school or try and visit. Her aunt wouldn’t have any reason to believe she was lying, either, as the amount of trouble she would get into with her uncle for harming Dudders was not something any sane person would bring about willingly. It was her biggest, and possibly only, hope, and she would see it happen.

She arrived at Privet Drive that night with a smile on her face, and even though she knew another unexplained absence practically guaranteed her uncle had been informed, she couldn’t bring herself to feel even remotely sorry about it. She had a friend, she had people who wanted her to be around them, she had magic and access to a world that was full in it. Her future looked better than her past and that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the longest chapter I have written by a really long way, and also covers a greater span of time than usual. The next chapter introduces Snape and things will continue to pick up from there.


	9. A Task and Nothing More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another long one this week! (Though not nearly as long as the last). This is finally the confrontation between Severus and Harry, and was not only my favourite to write but also the chapter I am happiest with overall. a heads up for next week, it will be from Harry's perspective and cover his perception of the first and second potions lessons, and his view of Severus which I am as excited to explore as you guys hopefully are to read.

**Chapter 9 - A Task and Nothing More**

-SSSSSS-

“You... found a child... at some indeterminate location ... are interested in him for some asinine reason I am not privy to... and as such are going to insist I instruct him in potions alongside Draco?”

“Precisely.” Lucius smirked in that self satisfied way he always did when he had superior knowledge, and Severus scowled in response. Lucius was enjoying this far too much, but he had no choice but to play along unless he felt like walking into whatever lunatic situation Lucius had orchestrated completely blind, which he most certainly didn’t.

“A potions prodigy perhaps? You found some Alley Rat and hope to transform him into your personal poison manufacturer?” It was said in jest but Severus honestly wouldn’t be that surprised. In all the years he had known Lucius he had never been one to not spend far too much brain power on over-the-top plans designed to serve such grand ideals anyone else would dismiss them as fictional. From wedding Narcissa to following the Dark Lord, he was always convinced his current project was the singular most important thing he could concern himself with and would devote himself fully to the cause, failure not an option. Were he from a less powerful lineage reality would have slapped him in the face enough times to properly disabuse him of that notion, but alas he had the infuriating habit of always ending up on top and then crediting himself as the sole reason for such fortune. Severus knew he had missed the mark with his somewhat joking theory, though, when Lucius only smirked harder and took another sip of the amber liquid he had been swirling in his glass since they had first sat in the man’s study.

“Not an Alley Rat, no, and I could hardly tell you if he were a potions prodigy when he has yet to see a cauldron let alone have a lesson.”

“Yet to see a cauldron? You mean to say you have decided to side with Dumbledore’s faction, dismiss all your theories on the superiority of wizarding blood and open up your home to knowledge-deprived muggleborns who you now wish for me to teach?” Lucius actually snorted at that, and Severus felt his own lip quirk as he reclined further in his chair, preparing for a long conversation as for someone as impatient as Lucius to spend so long dissembling, the true answer must truly be absurd.

“Closer to the mark, actually - no don’t look at me like that, I’m hardly so fickle as to abandon my values - and they are facts, not theories I’ll have you know - at a whim and should you ever see me fall so low as to side with Dumbledore on any real issue you have my permission to pensieve your memories of my service to the Dark Lord and see me entombed in Azkaban.”

“But a muggleborn?” Severus asked incredulously, wondering how on earth his answer could be anywhere near close to the truth.

“Merlin no, you think I would expose Draco to that? He is of wizarding blood, I am certain, but up to this point deprived of his birthright and left to flounder among muggles, a situation I am magnanimously making moves to remedy.” Severus felt his eyebrows rise in shared confusion and astonishment. There were very few ways to be certain of wizarding lineage, in fact the only ways he knew of were an inheritance ritual or an activated heirship, but both would point to a certain wizarding family and the way Lucius phrased his answer made Severus think that that was unknown. Nothing else could be definitive, and Severus dreaded to think of what would happen to this child if it turned out a mistake had been made and Lucius had chosen to associate his family with a muggleborn. He should probably feel bad for the boy anyway, after all no plan of Lucius’ was something a kid could know how to deal with - the Malfoys were hardly ones to play fair - but he supposed the brat would have to learn the perils of the real world at some point and he was reluctant to intervene, especially without knowing either the kid or what Lucius planned to do with him. His friend would never just come out and tell him what such plans might be, of course, but he was not interested in participating while uninformed so would have to pry what he could out of him. Knowing his reasons for assuming his blood status would come first, and to do that Severus would have to ask around the matter, feign ignorance of what he was sure he hadn’t done and go from there.

“And you of course have solid reasons to believe you are correct about his blood status. An inheritance test perhaps?”

“Not as such. The inheritance rituals would inevitably involve a variety of third parties it would not be worth dealing with at the moment. I can of course trust your discretion.”

“Of course,” Severus replied easily, his mind ticking over the ramifications of Lucius not wanting to allow the ministry, or even the goblins, to catch wind of who this child might be. The goblins had a lax enough approach to the laws requiring the ministry be informed of any and all transactions and rituals that it would only be the reactivation of a lost or dormant family that could possibly cause Lucius to hesitate. A meeting time or description could easily be bribed off the records, but once a ritual activated family magic that set in motion a series of processes that spread farther than the bank walls. The only thing he could think of that would make Lucius suspect something like that would be some ability or inherited trait the man didn’t think could come from anywhere else. Something like Metamorphmagus ability, though not that as it would be far too obvious to hide among muggles and the boy would have been discovered long before now. Anyhow, that was an extremely long dormant Black Trait, with Narcissa’s niece (who he had the unfortunate job of teaching) the first in countless generations, so the rituals would be unlikely to reactivate anything based on that anyway. It wasn’t a bad reason to suspect wizarding blood, he supposed, though as the Metamorphmagus case proved gifts could disappear for generations and there was nothing prohibiting a branch of squibs intermingled with pure muggles for years ending up producing a wizard possessing one. If there were such a thing as true muggleborns with no squibs in their history it could even be possible that he had a spontaneous ability, though the chances of that were slim to none. It was a risky bet on Lucius’ part, only worth it if the boy was talented enough to make it worth possibly orchestrating a coverup, but he had to admit he was intrigued. Not enough to willingly try and teach another dunderhead - this one even younger than his normal cohort - potions, but intrigued nonetheless.

“He has inherited magic then? I would say Metamorphmagus but the problems with that are obvious. Empathy perhaps, though I think even you would realise the dangers in that.”

“Even me? Why Severus I’m offended. You speak as if I am one commonly unaware of the risks of my schemes.” Lucius raised his hand to his heart and plastered a put-upon expression to his face, but his eyes still shone with mirth and glee at Severus’ attempts to stumble upon an answer.

“How many blood feuds are you responsible for again? Three?”

“Four,” Lucius scowled “But three are to such worthless names they don’t count and the fourth is to our benefit.” Severus inclined his head in acceptance, but was glad to finally have his friend on the back foot in the conversation, even if the man’s pompous nature would require an immediate smoothing of feather’s if he hoped to get them back on track.

“Far be it from me speak against your political ability or the viability of your schemes.”

“I should say so. You are the best Slytherin I know as far as self-preservation goes, but you hate playing politics and civility enough that if it weren’t for me and, regretfully, Dumbledore, I doubt you would ever leave your lab.

“I believe we are discussing a boy, not me.”

“Indeed we are, though the differences are not all that distinct. He’s bookish and brooding enough to remind anyone of you. I have no doubt he’ll be a Slytherin.”

“You are not going to convince me he is worth the trouble by describing his personality, and you are attempting to redirect me. I posed an inherited gift as the reason for your interest, are you going to make me guess which or simply tell me?”

“Always the smart one, Severus. Often too smart for your own good. You are indeed correct but to answer your question, neither. I have little time for games and knowing is hardly relevant to the task I would have you perform.” Severus was moving from mildly intrigued to genuinely interested, but knew that when Lucius took that tone there was little point pushing further so he tried a different angle. Empathy was a good enough working theory to be getting by with, it at least met the criteria that it wasn’t so immediately obvious it would be pointless to keep it from him, even if Severus suspected it was something more unusual and interesting than a gift that showed up to varying degrees in every few hundred mages.

“Fine, though it is a little rich to suggest that you don’t have time for games. What will you tell me about him? Where did you find him? How long ago?”

“A little over a month by now, and he was in fact Draco’s discovery, though you can claim partial credit.”

“Me?”

“Draco was on that inane wilderness excavation you decided to punish me with, blew up the ingredients of course but brought home news of him instead. He’s rather taken with the boy to be honest, quite lost his decorum when I promised Hadrian could brew with him.”

“You’ve already told them then?” Severus sighed, taking a mournful sip of his drink as he thought of the implications of the normally chatty boy not telling him about that meeting. Either Lucius was lying or Draco had been sworn to secrecy in a serious enough manner he actually complied. Given Lucius was not the sort to go anywhere where he might find a muggle raised child frequently or willingly, he suspected the latter.

“I don’t see why I should have, I have no intention of letting you say no.”

“Hardly the way to endear me to your cause.”

“Perhaps not, but then again you always have required a firmer hand. And while I can’t promise you talent I can at least say he will not cause you a fuss, he’s yet to say an unprompted word in my presence.”

“Shy?”

“Maybe,” Lucius mused, but he looked somewhat dissatisfied.

“Is that it then? All you’ll give me?” Lucius grimaced and Severus suddenly understood why the man had spent so long prevaricating, he needed Severus’ help. Not just in supervising the brat, but in discovering something Lucius thought he himself should be able to find out.

“Almost, in fact it is. The rest is more the things I can’t give you.” Severus cocked his eyebrow, but otherwise remained silent knowing anything he could say would only make the proud man more defensive. “He is... secretive.” A silence stretched, and Severus gave in.

“You said he would be a good Slytherin, is that not to be expected?”

“To a degree. He however is rather... good at it.”

“So he’s not telling you all you want to know, what do you want me to do? Legilimise him?” Severus realised the truth of his words as he said them, and Lucius’ steady gaze only confirmed his fears. “No.”

“Nothing invasive, nothing he would notice.”

“It is by its very nature invasive, and what could you possibly want to find in an 8 year old’s brain that requires it?” Severus was under no assumptions that he was a good man, nor that his morals extended any further than his aims, but if he could live out his days without prying into the mind of a pre-pubescent who’s mental structures were no doubt so unformed a single slip could send him spiralling into catatonia, he would do so.

“Where he lives, the names of those he lives with—“

“And instead of simply following him home you want me to break into his mind? The neighbourhood to muggle for you?”

“We have.” That stopped Severus up short.

“What?”

“We have followed him, or had the elves do it at least. It’s come to nothing.“

“Any ideas as to how?”

“Very few.” Lucius scowled again and he could tell how much it hurt the man to admit it. “Cissa thinks the child is unaware, I am not so sure. He has told us little more about him in the weeks since we met than we could tell at a first glance. He could have been obliviated the day before Draco found him and I’m not sure we would be able to tell.” If it was purposeful Severus thought the boy must be uniquely gifted - he knew from personal experience just how persuasive Lucius could be. And that was without his wife there to aid him.

“And are you playing the subtle game or just asking him straight out? Propriety does have its limits and I can assure you they come before Legilimency.”

“We... intend to ask. We go into a conversation with every plan to demand names or even just the address of whatever foul muggle school he goes to, but then leave it knowing nothing more than we ever did. Narcissa was even willing to insist on meeting with the muggle guardians under the guise of assuring them of the boys safety, but it’s come to nothing.”

“He gets out of answering the question? I never thought I’d meet anyone better at dissembling than a Malfoy” Severus joked, but Lucius’ responding sneer was enough to make it fall flat.

“It is not that, I would have lost my patience for that weeks ago and he seems desperate enough to please I doubt he could have withstood my displeasure. It is more that... the question never forms. It is as if when we talk we forget there is anything we have to discover, and only remember again when the conversation is long finished.” That was... unique.

“If that’s magic I’m not sure I could tell you which branch. Probably something protective... you are certain he does indeed live among muggles?”

“You think him a plant? No. I might be inclined to agree had I not met him, but to have not only me fooled but Cissa as well would be a feat indeed. He is far more closed off than the common child, puts Draco to shame if I’m honest, but the wonderment on his face as he witnesses magic is indecent enough it would be hard to fake.” Severus had to agree with that assessment. No eight year old could fool Narcissa if she were actively looking for a lie, and both she and Lucius would have caught any inconsistencies long before now.

“But you think he is aware that he is hiding these things about himself?”

“I... Narcissa is sure he does not know how successful whatever efforts he might have taken have been. I do not think he wishes to be discovered, whether that be because he is secretive by nature or because there is something specific he does not wish us to know I am unsure. Whatever means have been taken to keep this hidden, however, seem too sophisticated to be either achieved accidentally or performed by an as yet untrained 8 year old, and yet they seem to be the only available options.” Severus thought over this, but no solution popped into being and so he resorted back to basics.

“Leaving that for now then, assuming whatever is in place works on magical investigations, perhaps a purely muggle search might yield better results?” Lucius’ look of disgust brought another smirk to Severus’ lips, but as the man was not moving to interrupt he continued “They often have public records listing the people who live in a certain area, in a thing called a phone book. With a family name and a rough location a preliminary search could be done to find likely candidates, assuming they aren’t hidden. You have spoken of people he lives with but not of parents, am I to assume he is adopted?”

“He claims to live with family, but was orphaned at infancy and could not tell us so much as his parents names so it is entirely possible he is misinformed about that. As for the... muggle method... I suppose needs must, though I have no desire to see something like that in the house so you will have to do the research I’m afraid. According to him his family name is Owens.”

“You think he’s lying about that?”

“Not especially. I don’t see why he would, especially given he told it to Draco who he had no reason to believe would report back to us. But as I said I am not convinced that those he lives with are indeed blood. I would like to check on that as soon as possible as well, of course. It would no doubt make their separation easier and the sooner we can get him to abandon such a plebeian name the better.”

“Separate, you plan to take him in?” That would be out of character for Lucius, who rarely exposed his family and especially his son to his schemes. Bringing someone not of his blood under the Malfoy name and protection was enough of an anomaly it would cause a minor scandal and certainly thrust the child into the public eye almost instantly. Severus doubted he had any idea just what he had got himself into.

“If the situation requires it. He will have to distance himself from them upon reaching Hogwarts, of course, such lowly connections could ruin him. If they pose a problem we could do it sooner, I do not think Cissa is opposed to another child in the house and she recently seems rather impressed with him, though as Draco’s mother I am not sure if that is simply sentiment due to the children’s friendship. It does not seem necessary as of yet, however, and until he is less of unknown I am not particularly willing to open myself up to the risk. If he continues to prove interesting for long enough I’ll think over it again. The boy has shown no signs of wanting to tell his relatives about our world, at least, so we have the time.” Severus was not sure whether to hope that the boy stayed interesting or didn’t, and so settled for indifference.

“Very well, and where did Draco find him then, or do you have some other approximation for where he lives?”

“It was a wood somewhere in Surrey, they’re all the same really I didn’t take note of which one.” Lucius was most certainly not a potioneer and under-appreciated the disparate array of foliage and other ingredients that particular area offered. No wonder Draco blew up his collection bag, though Severus was sure it was purposeful rather than negligence as his godson claimed. “He doesn’t have the accent of the area though, so I would guess one of the more upper class sections - relatively speaking of course. He lacks the refinement of proper pureblood pronunciation but is far closer to it than I would expect of someone who came to us looking so muggle.”

“That is something, at least. I will procure a book when I find the time and look it over, though Owens is a common enough name it might not do much to narrow things down. As for the lessons you did not give me much choice—“

“Any choice”

“Yes yes, any choice, but I warn you if the brat is inept or insubordinate I will refuse to continue. And if he is holding back Draco don’t expect me to double my time and tutor them each separately. I do this as part of my duty as godfather and that does not extend to any urchin you pick up off the streets, or in this case from a wood.” Lucius smiled slightly and nodded his agreement.

“A fair stipulation I suppose, though as I said I don’t see him being a problem. Thus far he has seemed perfectly content to follow Draco’s lead and conform to his wishes so at the worst Draco can get used to leading in partner-work as he will no doubt be doing once at school. If he does interest you, though, increasing your time to once a week rather than every two might serve a purpose — no I am not demanding that, no need to scowl. I simply know you hate an unsolved puzzle as much as I do and am offering you ample opportunity to crack it. And of course Draco will be thrilled, he respects very few adults but you are one with that honour and you motivate him to work more than any tutor we have ever gotten him.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

‘Flattery gets me everywhere.” Severus huffed, but any tension the problem of Hadrian Owens had brought eased at the joke and Severus resigned himself to meeting the child himself and going from there. He would not get involved, just do his assigned task and report back anything he knew, going so far as the lightest of mental sweeps if he felt the need.

The two men left the study and Severus turned to go to the lower floor where the lab was based. Just as he began to walk away, however, Lucius called out, his tone suddenly serious.

“Severus. I am trusting you with this for the same reason I trusted you as godfather to Draco and for the same reason I speak to you when I want an unbiased opinion. You do not lust for power and while you may play both sides your political aspirations are non-existent. Even when you know my plans you do not interfere with them, I honestly think you do not for the most part care either way. I would not be including you here if I thought that was going to change, but just to be clear, he is mine.” Lucius’ gaze was clear, and Severus got the warning. Even if he had wanted to extricate the kid and give him a few more years of innocence away from the political spiderweb Lucius and those like him spun, by now it was too late. He didn’t know why he was important, but it was enough that he was. Severus nodded and continued on his way, arriving at the lab with a few minutes left to ensure the necessary supplies were in place before the boys arrived.

This particular room was well lit (though, of course, windowless as allowing natural sunlight was a recipe for disaster) and as well equipped and better furnished than any you could find at the Potions Guild. It was not, of course, the only lab in Malfoy Manor. No family as old as this one would ever have trusted imported potions at a time when regulations were so lax and in centuries past would have one if not a staff of brewers on call for on-sight use when needed. The labs they would have used were in the dungeons - a common location given their proximity to the servant’s quarters and the ready-built excuse that the cooler temperatures reduced the need for atmospheric control charms - and aesthetically speaking they looked like a cross between a torture chamber and a necromancer’s experimentation den. The smell of formaldehyde that had long ago sunk into the wood of the workbenches only aided that image. Severus himself had practically lived in them for the first few years after leaving school, taking advantage of the shelves of rare and not-so-legal ingredients to aid him in pursuing his mastery and in developing a range of potions at the request (read: order) of the Dark Lord. Even now, all of these years later, the thought of going into those rooms brought to the forefront of his mind the screams of the experimentation subjects the first time they had been brought to him and he had been ordered - by the Dark Lord himself - to see his work put into action.

Since the Dark Lord fell Severus had not once worked in those labs, and had only entered when in search of ingredients Lucius believed might be down there. He had taken great malicious pleasure in expanding and converting the pantry in his Spinners End house into a full laboratory, lacing as much magic as he could into every inch of the building as one final act of revenge against his father. Whenever he felt the need to experiment or brew anything he didn’t wish for Dumbledore to immediately become aware of, he would go there. Neither of them had ever mentioned it out loud but he suspected Lucius felt much the same way about those lower rooms, especially as when it came time to start preparing his son to top the potions class rankings he had immediately insisted on commissioning a new room that, in his words, ‘better fit the standards of a Malfoy and the tastes of the 20th century’. Severus was only glad Lucius had allowed him as consult, else it might have ended up with travesties like a marble workbench or, of all horrors, a fireplace. Instead it was perfectly acceptable, if a little less gothic than Severus’ tastes (besides the rather tame architecture, all the shelves were hidden behind doors meaning the jars of various ingredients he used to scare his students into submission couldn’t be openly displayed except for a few he left on his desk). He would not threaten his godson in the same way he did them, anyway, so he did not dwell on the loss overmuch, though impressing upon the new boy that he and the subject were to be taken seriously would be that much more of a struggle without it.

Eventually he heard the pattering sound of childish footsteps and muffled conversation and the door swung open. Draco was first through, still laughing about something that had been said just out of earshot, though he pulled himself together once he caught sight of Severus. The potions master raised his eyebrows imperiously but kept the usual sneer off his face, the boy knew him well enough to know it wouldn’t be serious and if he wanted to maintain any authority during Draco’s teenage years he would have to make sure he wasn’t desensitised to the more scathing of his expressions.

“Hello Godfather, I trust you are well,” Severus smirked inwardly at this. His Godson was still too young and looked too innocent for polite introductions to be anything other than comedic, especially given Draco often tried to imitate his father’s domineering expression when doing so which always looked exaggerated on his more rounded features.

“I am indeed Draco, and yourself?”

“Quite well, sir.” Draco’s patience seemed to wear out at this and he went from looking at Severus to towards the other boy who had slipped in behind him and was currently staring at the floor as of afraid he was intruding on a private moment, though from the slight movement of his head Severus could tell he was also trying to capture as much of a view of the room as possible out of the corners of his eyes. If this was indeed his first time in a potions laboratory it would be a lot to take in. He was much shorter than Draco and less refined, messy jet black hair the complete opposite to Draco’s gelled blond. Dressed in a black lab-cloak matching Draco’s, one of his from a year or two prior based on the stains, nothing about him caught Severus’ immediate attention and he wounded idly what Draco had seen in him when they first met.

“And this is Hadrian Owens, correct?” the smaller boy’s head shot up at the sound of his name and Severus felt himself freeze in place. Emerald green orbs stared up at him and for a moment it was like... no. It was a coincidence. It meant nothing. He was not thinking about her. This was just a boy, another brat he had to deal with on the orders of those he was indebted to.

“Yes sir,” came a small but steady voice, and the illusion broke. Draco was glancing at him oddly and the boy seemed uncomfortable under his scrutiny and stood unnaturally still, his face impassive. Severus thought he was beginning to understand why Lucius said he would be a Slytherin. Not many 8 year olds had that level of emotional control, even if Severus saw right through it. 

“To your station then. Mr Owens I will not force Draco to sit through an introductory lesson when he has surpassed that level so for today you will follow his, as well as my, orders and assist him with the potion we were scheduled to be brewing prior to your... involvement,” Severus said lowly. He was not about to let the boy think he could walk all over him or expect any grand favours. Time for him to realise he was not as important as Lucius was no doubt trying to convince him, and in the meantime prove to Draco his priorities still lay with him as there was no way an only child - especially not an only child as privileged and spoilt as his godson - would be ready to suddenly find the attention of the adults in his life no longer solely on him. The boy, however, did not so much as blink at the harsh tone and merely nodded amicably while Draco looked vaguely insulted on his behalf and opened his mouth to object, before a glance from Severus changed the words in his mouth.

“I— you can call him Harry, not Mr Owens.” Severus looked to Owens who seemed unsurprised and unbothered by the liberties Draco had just taken. Lucius’ words came back to him then, ‘thus far he has seemed perfectly content to follow Draco’s lead and conform to his wishes’ and Severus realised he might just have taken the wrong approach. It would not do for Draco’s to become even more used to being in control than he already was, and the boy would never survive if he kept being so passive.

“I believe that is for Mr Owens to decide, Draco” Severus said sternly and Draco pinked a little and looked to the smaller boy in apology. Owens smiled back slightly and looked uncertainly at Severus.

“Harry is fine, sir” and then, after a pause, “or Hadrian.” Severus’ immediate instinct was to not accept and keep to formal address. He did not know this child and had no intention of getting any closer than was necessary to satisfy Lucius, but Lucius had called him by his first name and in fact spoken of his hatred of the muggleness of the name ‘Owens’ so would likely be more displeased by sticking with that than by using the more informal moniker. Harry was out of the question, of course. He did not and would never resort to nicknames, but Hadrian would do.

“Very well, Hadrian,” Severus replied silkily, and turned to the dark wood desk in the corner to retrieve the recipe he had written out the lesson before for the Primary Bezoar Base for poison identification. The moment his back was turned he heard Draco start whispering rapidly and internally sighed. With just his godson in attendance it was easy to fool himself that the boy was superior to all the dunderheads that were forced upon him at Hogwarts and was actually capable of remaining focussed and keeping respect, but while preferable to most he was still a child and as such was destined to try his patience.

Catching the murmured words easily, he felt much of his annoyance settle as he realised all Draco was doing was hastily explaining the layout of the lab to Hadrian who, when he looked up to see, was now looking about more openly, his face the picture of intense curiosity. That was better than boredom or the sort of childish amusement that practically guaranteed a cauldron explosion in his near future, so perhaps there was some hope for this arrangement. Still, leaving untrained minds idle left time for plans and trouble to brew so he cut off their rather one-sided conversation quickly.

“Draco, explain to Hadrian the subject we have been covering for the past 5 lessons.” Draco spun around to face him looking appalled.

“But you said the test was next class!”

“And this is not a test, this is recall. If you are unable to do it then I can tell you what your results for the real test will be already.” He looked down at Draco sternly and waited for the words to sink in. Honestly the boy needed to learn how to better control his outbursts, especially when in the presence of impressionable others. At least he looked appropriately contrite and ready to answer and prove himself now.

“Yes, um, okay. We’ve been doing base potions, which are basically the building blocks or the found— uh, foundation for most of the more complicated stuff. There’s lots of different types but mostly it’s split into different categories, so there are base potions for healing and for transformation and for poisons and then different ones for their remedies - that’s what Severus said we were doing today I think—“

“Not remedies, Draco. There are three categories of potions relating directly to poisons, what are they?”

“Oh, well the poisons themselves of course. And then the remedies as I said, and also... oh! The thing you use to find out what the poison is!”

“The identifier. Correct, but also incomplete. Adaptations of the base can be used to detect specific poisons, but more broadly?”

“Um,” Draco stuttered, then for some inexplicable reason turned to Hadrian as if expecting him to answer in his place. The boy looked a little bewildered at Draco’s desperate look - he clearly shared Severus’ sentiments - then squared his shoulders and looked to him calmly.

“Wouldn’t it just be to tell whether or not a poison is there at all, sir?” Severus blinked. It wasn’t a difficult question to answer by any means, and one Draco would have been able to find had he thought logically rather than tried to rely solely on verbatim recall from two weeks prior, but for someone as uninformed as Lucius had assured him this boy was, being able to understand enough to think of it spoke well for his potential.

“Correct,” he said shortly, ignoring Draco’s gaping face, “once a poison has been ingested it is most often necessary to know precisely which it is to avoid long-term damage, but prior to that avoiding pain or death can be achieved simply by knowing what not to drink. Prevention is always the simplest course. Now, the potion that will be brewed today is the most basic of the Bezoar Base identification potions, and bar two exceptions all potions to identify unmasked simple organic poisons in liquid or dissolved form come from it. In its unadapted form, upon contact with poisons it will alter the mixture’s state somehow, usually an observable change such as colour but on occasion will change temperature, crystallise, release steam or something similar.” Pausing for a moment he saw both boys were frowning a little and waited to see which would come forward with their question. It was Draco who took the initiative.

“But, sir, if different poisons cause different reactions then surely that does tell you what the poison is rather than just that it’s there.” Severus was glad that Draco now had his head in the game and was proving himself capable of making insights many first years would overlook out of pure laziness. His lip quirked in appreciation and Draco caught it and smiled.

“Good, and yes. There is no one identifier that will produce the same reaction, or any reaction at all, to every poison. Broader bases such as these, however, are positive for a greater range of poisons in exchange for sacrificing specificity. Around 40% of positive reactions to the primary base are just the solution turning red, black or green, and many poisons will display different reactions when exposed to it depending on their state. Testing concentrated nightshade essence, for instance, will turn water murky but red wine clear and each of those results could belong to any number of other plants.” Draco still had his brow furrowed but nodded slowly, while Hadrian had lost all trace of his previous doubt and was as still and calm as ever. In a brief moment of sympathy - that he quickly rationalised as just not wanting to see his ingredients wasted - he wordlessly summoned the copy of ‘The Necessary Knowledge: an abridged compendium of ingredients for every potions brewer’ that was on his desk and opened it to the section displaying the diagrams and descriptions of basic cutting techniques. Of all the books tailored to this level of brewing, it was one of the more acceptable and one of the very few he would allow anywhere near his lesson plans. True masters were not known for their philanthropy and would far sooner spend their time developing something revolutionary than waste their genius on writing a book so juvenile, and even if they did there came a point where superior experience made it nearly impossible to remember that seemingly intuitive techniques and knowledge did in fact need to be broken down and explained if they were to be understood by the masses. As such, most volumes were either riddled with inaccuracies or left with gaps in explanations so large that it practically guaranteed no one without a competent instructor would be able to come anywhere near deciphering it. It was little wonder that next to no one outside the upper classes ever came to Hogwarts with any sort of understanding or appreciation for the art, and why even those who did often became so quickly disillusioned that even fewer ever reached mastery level. It did bother Severus sometimes, but those who somehow maintained devotion did so because the subject came naturally and they possessed a brilliance that could not be taught, and since Severus preferred these students (and a smaller class size at NEWT level) anyway, he kept his lamentations quiet.

‘The Necessary Knowledge: an abridged compendium of ingredients for every potions brewer’ was better than most (title aside) largely because it was not in fact written for children or for beginners to the field. Instead it was adapted from an encyclopaedic compendium written by the vampire Zostaviť of Strigoi Clan who had, as so many vampires did, fallen into obsession which in his case meant dedicating his life to chronicling all elements of potions ingredients bar instructions for the brews themselves. This particular volume featured his documentation of a selection of the most common ingredients used in brewing and how to prepare them along with some (admittedly interesting) drivel in the form of anecdotes that the man who had struck a deal with the clan to republish the works in a more accessible manner inserted to increase his claim of co-authorship. It was, in Severus’ opinion, one of the greatest tragedies in the field that his work was left unfinished after a dispute over his publishers’ proposed abbreviations resulted in a duel that cost him his life - through rumour had it there was at least one further volume lost to time and that one of his descendants had a similar dedication to the subject and was at least attempting to pick up where he had left off. Even this more modern edition was somewhat antiquated and, aside from the anecdotes, was among the most dry of all potions chronicles - and that really was saying something - so Severus usually only selected sections that would be relevant to Draco’s studies and then rewrote them for his ease, but seeing how the boy handled it would be a good test in how he approached difficult areas so he felt no need to make the same concessions.

“As I said I will not let your inexperience affect these lessons, but proper ingredient preparation is vital if you plan on brewing anything approaching acceptable so you will read these pages before attempting anything. Once you have shown me you are capable of doing so correctly, I will allow you to prepare ingredients for Draco while he adds them to the cauldron and controls the brew. Understood.” Hadrian nodded before a mild glare from Severus prompted him to verbally reply.

“Yes, sir” he said in a measured tone, and immediately turned to the book, his eyes quickly scanning the page before his gaze focused on the diagrams like he was trying to dissect them, satisfying Severus who found that he was not regretting giving him a chance with the book.

Severus then turned his attention to Draco and produced the recipe he had written, leaving the boy to select the ingredients on his own. It pleased him that the task did not phase his godson and that the boy immediately gravitated towards the right areas in the stock cupboard, only requiring direction for the one ingredient - Bittersweet berries - that he hadn’t encountered before. As Draco set to selecting the oil and lining the cauldron, Severus set aside a small portion of each ingredient along with a duplicate of the directions and a set of knives for Hadrian, who looked up from the book and immediately set it aside to begin. Severus winced internally, disappointed that it seemed the boy was one to give into impatience and rush into things before he was ready. Best to let him make his own mistakes, though, he thought. After all a warning now would be far less effective in the long term than the severe chiding he would give him once he mangled his first batch and could see for himself the cost of his foolishness.

He looked away to stop Draco from lighting the fire under the cauldron and insist he read the first line of the instructions and see that the bezoar needed to be added while the metal was cold, explaining that if its absorption effect was to remain once the mass had dissolved and interacted with the rest of the ingredients there needed to be a steady temperature increase. With Draco appropriately contrite and sat beside Hadrian with a knife and set of ingredients of his own, Severus looked back over at Hadrian, expecting to see him either warily desiccating one of the roots or massacring it with fervour... but he wasn’t. Instead, he was contentedly chopping with neat, precise movements at a pace nowhere near that of an expert but undoubtedly not that of a beginner either. He held the knife correctly - something he realised belatedly was not taught in the book and that he should have guided the boy on lest he risk hacking off his own fingers - and was slicing at near perfectly regular intervals.

These were not the actions of a boy who had never had to prepare ingredients before, and Severus thought over what Lucius had told him, searching for some lie on his part that could explain it. But no, he knew Lucius’ tells and could see no reason for him to not inform him of this, so it was obvious he didn’t know. Severus had briefly suggested the boy could be a plant trying to infiltrate the Malfoys for whatever reason, but if he were so good at that he could fool two Slytherins of the caliber of Lucius and Narcissa then he would know to feign incompetence at potions as well. A skill like this wasn’t something he could just intuitively grasp and execute so adeptly on a first try, though, so he must have practiced somewhere before. Living in the muggle world the only thing close would be cooking, which once he thought of it seemed possible enough - and certainly more reasonable than any of the other theories he could come up with. It was certainly an unusual sort of eight year old who would cook so much that he could so easily transfer the skill, but everything he had been told and observed thus far was unusual so compared to the rest this was rather tame.

Severus jolted to focus as he realised that during his internal debate Hadrian had noticed his assessing glaze and stopped working, and Severus found himself being pierced by those awful green eyes bearing an expression that Lil... no, that didn’t matter. He was looking at him as if both waiting for approval and mentally preparing himself for a remonstration, and since Severus was not someone for whom voicing approval came naturally, he did nothing but give a curt nod and look away. He continued coaching Draco but kept one eye on Hadrian’s steady progress, and by the time Draco was ready to add the bulk of the ingredients, Hadrian’s were ready to go. Draco smiled delightedly when Hadrian got to join him beside the cauldron, and Severus found himself staring once again at the smaller boy as a small smile seemed to lighten all his features as the brew progressed. Severus was not a betting man, but if he were he would place one on Hadrian Owens being one of the few people who would be truly capable of appreciating the art that is potions making. It was a shame that Lucius’ plans likely did not revolve around that fact.

Eventually the potion was finished, and was of a more precisely correct shade and consistency than any Draco had managed on his own. He did not tell his godson this, of course, but by the children's shared smiles as they looked upon their finished product, he was not sure he would have minded even if he had. The Owens boy was quick and efficient, far more so than Draco, as they cleared their station and soon enough only the filled cauldron was left. Out of his pocket Severus pulled two crystal vials with stoppers and gave one to each, motioning to Draco to fill them. At Hogwarts he was hesitant to pass out successful brews to his students, knowing it was unlikely even he could imagine the full scale of havoc such a supply could bring upon them all, but after Draco’s first passable creation he had been so happy and so desperate to keep it as a memento Severus had relented, and it had become tradition ever since. If one of them ever went awry, it would be for Lucius and Narcissa to deal with rather than him, anyway, and since it was they who insisted on these lessons (not that Severus really minded, but he was hardly going to exude enthusiasm to them) he did not feel bad about that fact. Hadrian posed more of a problem, after all potions and the muggle world were not two things that should never go together, but he wasn’t about to deny one boy while gifting the other and a poison identifier couldn’t do that much. If they got to something that would pose a real risk he could make the boy keep it at the Manor, but for now he would leave the child to smile and gaze in astonishment as he tightly clutched his first creation.

“Are you staying for dinner Severus?” Draco asked merrily, and Severus cut off his thinking about Hadrian.

“Not tonight, Draco, I have business at Hogwarts. Next week I should be better available.”

“Ok... but wait you don’t teach us next week. Are you coming for some other reason?” Ah, of course, he didn’t. Strange how his mind had automatically taken Lucius up on his suggestion to increase their sessions to once a week until the Hadrian puzzle was figured out.

“Well, I have spoken with your father and we believe it would be... prudent... to increase your time here given there are now two of you to teach.” Draco smiled widely and Hadrian looked to be trying to contain his but doing a very poor job, and Severus felt an involuntary rush of pride at their enthusiasm. If only all his students were like this. Then Draco froze and his gaze turned to horror.

“Does that mean the test is only a week away?!” That made Severus smirk.

“Yes.” He replied shortly. “So if you haven’t already I suggest you begin revising, the results can be discussed over dinner next week.” Draco looked miserable and he noted some small amount of apprehension in Hadrian’s face as well. The boy had been around for a day, there was no way he would be prepared, but he had clearly taken note of Severus’ promise not to make any special considerations. It was somewhat strange he wasn’t protesting having to sit one, but he perhaps thought no one would care about his result due to the circumstance. This was largely true but Severus would give him a chance to achieve something, at least. He had another copy of ‘The Necessary Knowledge’ at Hogwarts and would make sure to only select questions based on that and would include a fair few from the first few chapters. If the boy was as interested and capable as he seemed from this lesson he should manage to read at least two by next week, and while the language may be dense he would understand something at least. If he was to catch up to Draco he would have to work hard and this would set the tone well.

“Make sure to take your copy of the instructions, Draco. I will see you next week. Hadrian, stay behind.” Hadrian immediately tensed, and Severus noted that the tight, still pose he had held himself with before was positively relaxed compared to this. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Draco look openly curious but, upon seeing his friend’s worry, flashed him a small smile and a thumbs up which Severus pretended not to see, along with the ‘tell me later’ he mouthed that finally eased a little of the tension from Hadrian’s face.

The door swung shut behind Draco and he studied the boy, seeing how long it would take for him to relent and start fidgeting or questioning him. Neither happened. Moments ticked by and Severus had the uncomfortable feeling he was getting a sense of what it was like for his wayward students reporting to detention when he employed the silent trick on them. He was stubborn enough to wait the boy out, no child could outmatch him, but he reminded himself that the goal of all of this was to get some answers out of him for Lucius and that silence would not do that.

“You prepared your ingredients well.” He began, and this finally got a reaction out of him. His head snapped towards him and incredulity showed on his face before he forced it back behind whatever mask he had built. Normal children didn’t act like this, he had seen enough of them to know. This kid had a secret.

“Thank you sir” the boy finally replied, and Severus let another few moments pass.

“You clearly have experience.” Hadrian cocked his head slightly, the perfect picture of rehearsed confusion.

“I’ve never made potions before, sir.”

“It’s brewed, not made,” Severus replied automatically, then paused to wonder if the boy knew that and said the wrong thing simply to back up the point he was trying to prove. No, he believed that Lucius was right about the boy being muggle raised - at least he would until some actual evidence came along to suggest otherwise - and so trying to unpick minor lies at the cost of discovering the big one would do no good. “I am not commenting on the entire potions process, though, merely the prep work. You have experience with that.” The boy waited a little and Severus wondered if he was stubborn enough not to answer simply because it wasn’t phased as a question. He raised his eyebrows at the boy to show his incredulity that he thought such a ploy might work, and Hadrian answered soon enough after.

“I do some cooking, sir, it might be from that.”

“You enjoy cooking?” Hadrian shrugged. He hated shrugging.

“I suppose.”

“You suppose you enjoy cooking but do it enough that I could tell from the way you held the knife alone. Why?”

“I— I do like it then, sir.” Severus hummed in response, not fully convinced but it was the only explanation that really made sense and given he was interrogating a child he should really stop searching for masterminded deceptions at every turn. He looked more closely at the boy, past his defensive stance, and tried to see what any passing observer might conclude about him. As he had already noted he was unremarkable besides those eyes, which were probably unremarkable as well and were simply magnified by those ugly, scratched black-framed glasses he had perched on his nose. He was small, small enough he would never guess the boy was eight (though Draco was really his only point of reference when it came to children pre-eleven so what did he know) and the clothes were borrowed from Draco so could tell him nothing. The less said about his hair the better, and the shade made his pale skin only look paler in contrast. That could be something, he mused. Lots of children were pale, white purebloods especially as pureblood features always tended to trend towards the extreme end of any scale, just look at his own nose, but while children like Draco resembled porcelain, Hadrian looked somewhat sickly, like the correct shade had been drained out of him. Combined with his size, which actually seemed more like frailty as he looked at the skin stretched over his delicate features and body swamped by the cloak, he wondered if he should start being concerned. There were two reasons for someone to become adept at something: enjoyment and necessity. He had not jumped at the chance to say he loved cooking, so that suggested necessity might be a factor. Granted, he had been working to hide emotions from his face at every moment since Severus had started watching him, but that sent a message in itself and it was not one Severus was particularly happy to hear. Lucius was right about the boy’s accent, far more refined then he would expect of the most deprived areas of Surrey, but changes in fortune or some other reason for that were always a possibility. Poverty and neglect were hardly a stranger to Severus; even ignoring his own past he was head of Slytherin House and while most were happy and content, chosen either for natural ambition or for values trained into them by families for whom Slytherin was a legacy, there were always a few for whom self preservation and the cunning needed to survive were learnt through harsh experience. He wouldn’t wish that on the boy, of course he wouldn’t, but it matched what he was seeing.

What to do about his suspicions was another thing altogether, of course. Lucius would likely be tactless with the information if told, and would try and use it in a way that would most likely backfire. He had nothing to back it up, nor was he likely to as most neglect was merely the result of poverty and he didn’t have an address to tell him more about the area. That was a thought, though. Assuming accidental magic like that were somehow possible - a big ask but fine hypothetically speaking - a desire to keep more unpleasant or embarrassing truths away from the Malfoys could even go towards explaining why his address was proving so hard to find.

He let his magic reach out almost instinctively, grasping for more information he could use to fuel his theories. It wasn’t until the boy shivered and stepped backwards that Severus really took note of the information he was receiving, and even then all he could do was frown in confusion. Mages all leaked magic - had an aura of sorts - and the fluctuating disposition of children made them worse than most. When he had automatically scanned the area, however, he had not picked up on another person. Himself, yes, the ingredients around, yes, he could even pick apart a few of the different types (magical sensitivity was one of his specialties) but the boy was blank. He couldn’t be a muggle or a squib, the level of calamity that would bring was hardly worth contemplating and Lucius had been so sure, but to completely suppress an aura was a level of control he would have never thought a child so young could achieve without witnessing it himself. The child looked confusedly at him - that he could pick up on Severus’ scan yet more evidence that Hadrian’s magic was stranger than any child’s he had ever met - and Severus let his mind reach out alongside his magic in order to give the lightest of brushes against his thoughts. Lucius had given permission, he reasoned, requested it even and he was not prying for secrets or risking the boys mind in any way. He was simply planning on picking up the most obvious of things, the things a close analysis of micro-expressions would likely reveal anyway, and doing so to see if it could reveal something that would help him. The boy flinched harder this time and hurriedly looked away, breaking the connection. For a moment he saw fear fill those eyes before their attention was cast solely on the floor and his heart hurt at seeing it, though he dismissed the feeling as soon as it came. Severus again wanted to demand Lucius tell him about whatever strange gift they had observed in him as this level of sensitivity and control was most certainly not normal and likely not natural either. Nothing could be done about that right now, though. Not when he had a child frozen in place in front of him looking for all the world like he thought he was about to be attacked. He hadn’t done anything, nothing to warrant this fear, but strangely he was not alright with letting that child leave the room with that expression still on his face.

“The book you read from at the beginning of class is yours for the week. Study what you can, the test will be based on it and we will work on the areas you are weak on compared to Draco in order to catch you up after that.” He nearly commented on the boy’s sensitivity, but did not feel informed enough to discus it yet and until he decided how he was going to act he was hardly going to involve him. The boy looked up, confusion gracing his features once more before he smiled slightly. Severus very carefully did not notice the relief he felt at seeing that smile.

“Thank you sir. I’ll work hard.”

“See that you do,” Severus sneered, and was pleased to see the stubborn set of the boys jaw that suggested he meant what he said. “If you are to eat with the Malfoys I suggest you go now, they are due to begin.”

“Yes sir,” was the boys quick reply and he turned to the door looking ready to flee before pausing at the handle. “Thank you sir, for the lesson. See you next week.” Hadrian left without waiting for a response, and the room felt strangely empty without him.

He let himself sit still and quiet for a good few minutes, gathering his thoughts, before deciding it was time to prepare to leave. He scribbled out a short note for Lucius:

“Lucius,

Apologies for the lack of personal farewell, though you have known me long enough to not expect better. I accept your request to return next week, make of that what you will, and we can return to our discussion then. Thus far I find myself reaching the same conclusions you did. Your son is performing well. Please give my love to your wife.

Severus Snape.”

With that done, Severus gathered his materials and headed for the floo, still wondering about Hadrian. This was one of the stranger plans Lucius had been involved in, and Severus was not sure of his position on the matter. The boy was odd. Odd enough to stump them all and draw them all into his orbit. That it didn’t seem purposeful was little consolation, and Severus could see himself falling into a research pit trying to uncover some obscure key to unlocking the truth. He couldn’t do that, though. Not when it wasn’t his task to concern himself with and when he was being kept from potentially important information probably for precisely that reason. His brief flash of concern for the brat’s home situation was hardly something that needed to be immediately acted upon; lots of families were poor and making a fuss of it wasn’t necessarily going to help him anyway. He would find a phone book later in the week and make some idle searches when he had the time, but other than that he would stick to doing this once a week. Lucius’ project, Lucius’ problem. He had too many papers to grade to concern himself with it now. With that concluding thought he turned to the fireplace and let himself be whisked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I have one more request, if you’re up for helping me out. I have a question I would really appreciate people taking the time to think over and send me answers for. Basically, those who have read to this point will have seen that I keep hinting at Harry getting taught by snakes how to think and approach life like they do, particularly one called Milton (I just couldn't resist the Paradise Lost reference). I have an extensive mental back story that covers these interactions as well as Harry's experiences with accidental magic and how she's ended up with the poor mess her core is in now. Originally I had planned to slowly trickle information about this through this and future works, but that would take a long time and likely never be fully revealed so I have been pondering over writing a side story with a series of one-shots spanning Harry ages 1-8. PROS of this is a much deeper view into Harry's personality and into the rules of magic I am following for this story. CONS is that I sometimes have a tendency to over-explain thinks and this might make the Harry in the main story seem a little less exciting and unpredictable. Also, I would possibly end up spending less time in this main story explaining aspects of magic, e.g the Snake's Code, so people who don't read that other story won't get to see bits I might otherwise have included. If I do this it will be erratically released and unlikely to interfere month with this ones release schedule as I would only do it when stuck in a rut here or if I had extra free time.


End file.
